


from their high thrones in heaven

by syanblues



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Season/Series 13, Angelic Grace, Angst, Crowley's A+ Parenting?, Don't get attached, F/F, F/M, Hurt Dean Winchester, Implied Castiel/Dean Winchester, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, M/M, Other, Past Crowley/Gabriel (Supernatural), Sad ending?, Slow Build Castiel/Dean Winchester, Slow Burn, Still not sure, Supernatural but make it gayer, What Have I Done, Why Did I Write This?, devil's key, omc may or may not be based on brendon urie, real slow burn, sam winchester is bi, someone dies that's for sure, this is a fact trust me, whoops, yay rarepairs!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-15
Updated: 2018-10-01
Packaged: 2019-05-03 08:11:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 15
Words: 31,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14564742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/syanblues/pseuds/syanblues
Summary: || This is now a more than one chapter deal, starts super freaking slow because it started as a One shot and I had no idea where to take this. I do now though! (I would hope so????)I just started watching Supernatural and I had to jump to the ship wagon because i'm gay and love suffering. EnjoyPSA: this is super short but there's just so much you can write with a characters internal dialogue alone





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> || This is now a more than one chapter deal, starts super freaking slow because it started as a One shot and I had no idea where to take this. I do now though! (I would hope so????) 
> 
> I just started watching Supernatural and I had to jump to the ship wagon because i'm gay and love suffering. Enjoy 
> 
> PSA: this is super short but there's just so much you can write with a characters internal dialogue alone

Unable are the loved to die  
For love is immortality,  
Nay, it is deity —

Unable they that love —to die  
For love reforms vitality 

Into Divinity.  
-Emily Dickinson 

 

 

Dean never felt heartbreak, not in this way, nor did he ever think he would.  
He'd mourned before, sure, but never had he lost something he loved. love, it is such a strange word, a strange word he'd never imagine using in this context. With this person in relation.

And yet, it was never a person at all to begin with. 

He thought he'd felt it with Lisa, but even back then he just felt guilty. But what he felt when the angel fell right to his feet was despair, crude and unadulterated pain that was closest to being stabbed on the chest. Being unable to breathe. 

He wasn't sure he'd even breathed ever since.  
But the real pain came after, after he'd wrapped Castiel's body on a white blanket and let his body turn to ashes. 

When they came back to the bunker and he'd briefly seen "Cass" on the screen of his phone when he flipped through his contacts.  
When he'd realised that every day after that one, Castiel would still be gone, gone to never come back. It felt like a blow to his ribs being kicked constantly and he wasn't sure he'd be able to live with it for the rest of existence.

He marched back into his room with the same set of eyes that reminded Sam to not ask questions, and he knew Sam would know better than to do so at the moment. 

His eyes settled on the cassette laying on his bedside table, the gift he'd given Cass before that Cass hadn't quite known what to do with. He chucked bitterly.  
Ever since he knew Castiel, ever since he'd grown fond of Castiel, he'd wanted Cass to keep something to remember him by.

He thought that maybe once he was gone, once Sam was gone. Castiel would be sitting on a hill, eons of years in the future and still keep the tape. Remember who had given it to him and maybe even play it. 

He never thought he'd be the one who'd need something to remember Castiel by, that Cass wouldn't be a part of his book, just a brief chapter shorter than it should be.  
And now, he was angry, furious. His blood was boiling and tears blurred his vision. 

He would have Lucifer's head on a spike, he'd have the nephilim's head on a spike, he'd kill every single motherfucker that had lead to this result. They'd pay.  
Castiel had died fighting for the nephilim's lie, and for that nephilim would pay first. 

And he hated himself with the same energy, too. Maybe if he'd done something different, maybe if he'd gotten free of Sam's grip he'd run off to help.  
we both would be dead. he thought.

But at least he wouldn't have the frustration crawling inside of his chest, maybe there wouldn't be things left unsaid.  
Maybe they would have held each other to their last breath, maybe he would said everything he always tried to hide. Maybe he would have said "I love you", or "i'm sorry" or any of the words that tore him inside once he was gone. 

But maybes just weren't enough, because Castiel was dead and not Chuck—not anyone, could do anything about it.


	2. counting the days since you went away

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> another chapter? woah. 
> 
> || There's slight Dean/others in this chapter, but it's one sided and brief. However I think Dean/others may happen in other following chapters.
> 
> Also this chapter happens during and after episode 2 "Patience", hence the reference to Dean's argument with Sam in that episode which means that Cas is technically not dead anymore by this chapter :) but he won't be around for another 2/3.   
> AND, I thought of including things in the episode but just re-telling the episodes felt boring. I wanted to show things that weren't technically in episode to spice it up.

Needless to say, night had been hell.   
  
Dean wasn't sure when he fell asleep, but that he was suddenly back at apocalypse world, watching Castiel march steadily to his own death. And then a fire burning down to dust.   
  
And then, there was darkness.  
  
"Dean" —And then he heard it, clear as water. The voice of the angel calling from a corner in the dark.   
His wings were burnt, broken and wrapping around himself for shield. —"Dean" He sounded so hurt, and his primary instincts screamed to help him.   
But he couldn't, and impotence was killing him.  
"Dean"—He repeated, like the name alone could ease his pain.   
He wanted to say he was sorry,   
He wanted to ask him who hurt him,   
He wanted to tell him he needs him.    
  
"Cass, I -"   
  
And the ringing of his alarm brought him back to reality.   
  
His eyes were puffy and irritated, and he stayed like that for a moment. Staring at the ceiling like he could find answers in the black paint.   
Fuck, Cass was gone.   
  
It was a reality, he sensed, that could haunt him every morning of his very life. And he figured his stomach would feel like a knot every single time.   
Suddenly, staying like this was a very tempting offer.   
  
But he stands up, and does what he does every time he feels like shit.   
He looks for something to kill.   
  
-•-  
  
Dean was beat.   
Slamming the door shut, tumbling over the bed and closing his eyes shut against his pillow. He could hear Sam do the same, and a shy quiet door closing followed.   
Everything ever since Cass was gone had been hard, too hard. He carried a weight on his shoulders that was threatening to break him on half. And he needed a break, he really fucking did.   
  
He stayed like that for a moment, frustration driven tears inching out of his shut eyes.   
  
When had he gotten like this? Why was he like this?   
Not even after Charlie, he didn't believe he'd ever been this utterly broken. Maybe it was just all other griefs waving in, and Cass had just been the drop that spilled the glass.   
  
And he was back at staring mindless into the ceiling.   
When had it all gone this wrong? And, was there anything that could have stopped it?   
  
"Cass" —And he prayed, he knew no one would answer. But during his time in Purgatory, he found, praying to Cass had become a de-stressing routine. An attempt to keep himself grounded that had usually worked. —"I know you can't hear me, wherever angels go when they get smited, I know you won't hear me"   
And even though he knew his words were true, he still paused for a moment, looked over his shoulder and let out a sigh.   
"I miss you, man. I really do." — his teeth gritted firmly until his jaw was numb. "I don't know what to do Cass."   
And the dead silence was killing him, he needed to get out.   
  
So he did what he did best, he stormed out of the room and took grabbed his keys. Driving away until he found the first, half decent, looking bar.  
  
-•-  
  
The first thing he noticed when he walked in was the blonde bartender that flashed him a smile the moment he walked in, locking her eyes with his in a manner he already too well knew meant he should ask her when her shift ends, wait for her and then drive her to a cheap motel room and come back early morning before sun rise to the bunker.  
But he found himself looking away, avoiding her eyes like she could see his pain if she looked hard enough.   
  
"What ya' want, sweetie?" — Her voice was sweet and mellow, warm and inviting. Any other day, he'd reply with a pickup line along his order. Deliberately stare at her in all the ways he knew he shouldn't, and she'd giggle shyly with a meek smirk.    
"Gin on the rocks, thanks." — His eyes skimmed around the place while she served his order, it was fairly empty, apart from the occasional drunken men that had stayed a little too late.   
She'd figured that he just wasn't into it, he thought. Because she had moved on to other activies than hanging around him at the bar, and for that he was thankful.  
  
A few too many drinks later, he was still hanging around the bar. Head low, observing the liquid swirling around because there was nothing better to do. 

It wasn't the first time he drank to drown his feelings, but there was always an unexplainable tingle of shame that followed. It settled deep in his gut, and he knew it would only be much worse in the morning.   
Dean briefly remembered that time Cass had drank a whole liquor store, and wondered if Cass had felt ashamed too.  
  
"Rough night, huh?"  —He heard a voice behind him speak, but he didn't turn. Just chuckled.   
"That transparent?" —Finally, he turned to look at the owner. It was a man, mid thirsties. Wearing a marron jacket and a shirt that matched his eyes.   
"What can I say, I have an eye for tortured souls, it's a talent."  —He sat next to him, and Dean felt anxiety tie on his stomach when he realized he was looking at him like the bartender had moments ago.  —"That and I come here every time I need a secluded place to be miserable,"  
  
He pointed at the other people around the bar, and Dean realized most wore a restless face too.   
  
"Seems like a tendency around here."  —And yet, his smirk was quite different too. It was understanding, and Dean figured he must have something troubling his mind too.   
  
"Evan."  —He added.   
"Dean." — Dean finally replied, it just seemed unpolite not to.   
"Well, nice to meet you Dean."  
  
-•-  
  
They had been talking for a while.   
Dean had lied about being a regular hunter, and Evan had entertained him about the wonders of working the besg american man style. Office, boss and all that jazz.   
He also learned that they had similar music tastes, and Evan seemed like generally a cool person to hang around with. If things were different.   
Sometimes he wished they were.   
  
And everything went downstairs when Evan suggested the one thing Dean wished he wouldn't.   
  
"Evan..." — He really didn't know how to tell him, or what to tell him at all.   
"No, I get it, you have nothing to apologise for." — And Evan was too kind, way too understanding and Dean thought maybe being smited out of existence right now would be better.  
"It's not because I don't like you." —He gritted his teeth. Dean liked Evan, and certainly a one night stand wouldn't hurt considering the bartender didn't seem interested anymore. But there was too much that going with Evan implied that he didn't want him to be involved in, he didn't want to go there tonight. —"I'm just...not for it tonight, ya' know?" He tried to make it less awkward, but already plenty drinks in didn't let him completely gather his thoughts the way he'd like to.   
"Yeah, I get it Dean." —Evan smiled reassuringly, but he he seemed overwhelmed and Dean was too tense as well.   
  
The conversation died down later, and they both parted ways.   
  
-•-   
  
Evan had insisted to drive Dean home, which Dean refused proufoundly. He knew he shouldn't be driving this drunk, that he'd either crash or get pulled over by a cop. But rational thinking wasn't exactly his forte at the moment, he just wanted to get back to the bunker and lay down to catch some sleep.   
  
-•-  
  
Dean wombled his way downstairs, gripping firmly the railing in case he stumbled. He stood still for a moment, looking at the empty world map room.   
He knew for a fact that Cass stayed here to read at nights, he'd encountered him a couple of times when he came out of his room to grab a midnight snack. And seeing all chairs empty and everything in place reminded him why he even went out in the first place.  
  
So he went back to his room, looked up to the dark ceiling until he fell asleep. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> || I added new tags and take it as a fair warning if you're sensitive to homophobic language/homophobia and or child abuse. While Cas is still dead I think I want to make of this fic Dean exploring being bisexual and this will include in next chapters mentions of John. 
> 
> So, be ware for next chapter.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ||: trigger warning for child abuse, homophobia, violence and homophobic-driven violence. It's mild but please read cautiously

Dean was 16. 

John was back on the hunt, expected to spend quite some time in that town. So they rented a small 3-room house and the brothers were put in the town's public school. 

Dean hated schools, he hated having to sit through a history lecture when he knew so much of a world others didn't. But before all, he hated being the new guy.  
No matter how much of a condifent guy attitude he tried to cover up with, it didn't stop him from getting looks more often than he'd like. So his alert state in schools was mostly permanent. 

So one day during chemistry class, when he felt someone leering behind him he was ready to snap. Fists cluched, eyes ready to throw the best threatening look he could pull at 16.  
But he was meet with kind, blue eyes, and he didn't know what to do with himself. 

The guy's name was Jason, and he'd noticed him staring for every class they had been together that week.  
He also learned that Jason happened to just be team captain of the football team. And most of the times, that meant that he was also the girls only interest. 

Dean found himself staring too. Watching Jason swift around the halls, politely smiling at the girls that swarm around him like bees to honey.  
And every once in a while, Jason would stare back.  

He also realised that when the girls were looking at him, Jason would always be looking at Dean. And God did he feel bloody special. 

It had been two weeks until they actually talked to each other, Jason had caught him walking home and tagged along. The guy sounded as eager and nervous as Dean was feeling too.  
He guessed this was new for Jason as well, that whatever he was feeling Jason was feeling too. It was both terrifying and absolutely thrilling, like a rollercoaster they'd happen to ride together. 

On the third week they'd touched hands once and Dean hated how much of a giggly girl he had felt then, freaking out over such a simple thing.  
It had been a silent agreement that they were a thing, and by the time Jason had kissed him at the football field after school, Dean decided he was into Jason. And whatever that meant, didn't matter at the moment, he'd worry about that later. 

Jason accompanied him back home as every day, casually leaning closer to him every once in a while. They usually avoided holding hands in public out of fear, but closeness was something that somehow was just natural in their interactions with each other. And it just felt so right, Dean didn't think of asking him to ever stop.  
"See you after practice tomorrow?" They stopped near the door. Dean didn't register the impala parked by.  
"Sure." He smiled back at Jason, and neither of them noticed the presence watching from the window.   
Jason leaned closer, he was a few inches taller than Dean so Dean had to stretch to reach him. They kissed sweetly as usual and Dean walked in. 

"I brought you guys here because I needed to stay, Dean."  
And Dean froze right there, his blood went cold.  
"I didn't bring you here to have you mess around with a boy, I hope you understand I'm disappointed." Dean's breath hitched, feeling like he could spill all the contents in his stomach right there.  
"I know, sir."  
John circled around him, avoiding his glare. He was so disappointed he couldn't even face him.  
"And I hope you understand why I do what I do." He finally turned to face him, and Dean felt tears threaten to spill at the anger his father looked at him with. 

"De?" Sam called from the room across the hall, and Dean stood in front of the door to stop Sam from getting out. "Stay in, Sammy." He knew Sam could hear his voice tremble, too, and that this would just make him want to get out even more.  
"Is everything alright?"  
"Listen to your brother, Sam." He also knew John's tone was enough to repress any desire of getting involved that Sam may have.  

He remembered the pain of every hit, and the bruises left on his arm because John would try to keep him still. But Dean took it, took it all with not a drop of complain; mainly because it was John, but also because deep down he felt like it was justified. 

 

And at the end he was sitting on the floor, blood dripping from the wound on his lip. 

"I want you to know that I'm doing this for your own good." John didn't look at him, just stepped into the kitchen with no other word or even the faintest show of compassion. But this was John, so Dean didn't really expect it anyways. 

"We're leaving tomorrow night, you won't talk to pretty eyes during class. And we will never talk about this again, got it?" He watched John peak from the door, and he nodded reluctantly. 

Even to this day he still had nightmares about it. 

He woke up in a cold sweat, stayed curled up for a moment until he decided it was time to get up and find a case.

-•-

Maybe he'd been too rough on Jack.  
He'd been useful, more than useful, actually. Sam would be dead had they left Jack on the bunker.  

But he still felt his nerve crumble every time he was around the kid, and maybe it was not the kid's fault at all. And he couldn't help it and he felt a tad guilty about it too.  
Jack didn't want Castiel to be dead, that had been on Lucifer.  
But it was hard to focus his mental energy recently, with everything on his mind he felt he barely had time to breathe. 

So he inhaled, breathed out. Reminded himself that he was still alive, still there, still breathing. 

But he didn't feel it, and air was useless when you didn't want to need it.  
   
His mind drove him to where his thoughts went whenever he wasn't distracted: Cass  
He knew it wasn't healthy, and their encounter with Mia had made him rethink his mental state. Maybe he wasn't okay at all, and maybe it was about to be time to admit it. 

That night, sleep didn't reach him, and he realised tomorrow would be even more difficult than today.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ||: this chapter is kind of shorter than I expected but I'm really troubled into whether or not to follow canon episodes of season 13 (hence I've avoided writing about the episodes at all) But I'm literally not sure? If you'd like me to go canon-divergance a little bit I'd absolutely love to lmao let's admit s13 was a train wreck. Not that I could do better, but I'D BE MY TRAIN WRECK.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In an attempt to bring Dean back to his best element, Sam finds a case seemingly involving werewolf killings, the case proves to be more difficult than they thought and they find the murders to be work of a mysterious cult.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So i've decided to completely throw season 13 off because it was a mess anyways and do whatever I wanted. All chapters will be of my doing. (Michael is still the villain, other world is still a thing, Asmodeus will still be a part of all the shenanigans and Mary will still be in other world.) But it's *cough* different?

That morning he was surprised to feel rested. And found that, while his night hadn't been the best, he also didn't have any nightmares. For that, he was greatful.   
He showered and got dressed to join Sam at the library.

"Hey, check this out." Sam turned at him and gave him a sympathetic smile while passing his laptop. He hated that sympathethic smile, but knew that it wasn't ill intentioned and that he should be grateful, so he ignored and focused at the article in the screen instead.   
Dean skimmed at the document and frowned. "Werewolves, someone else could handle it." He continued his way towards the kitchen dismissedly.   
"I mean, wouldn't it be nice to take a break? From difficult cases, you know?." Sam shouted from the library. 

He knew what Sam was doing, and he wouldn't say that it didn't make him feel some sort of way. He was trying to help him, keep him busy.  
Dean knew he was not exactly subtle about his emotions, and rarely did he ever stop to consider what Sam may feel knowing and not being able of helping. And he also cosidered that while Cass had meant a lot to him, Cass had also been Sam's friend.   
He felt guilty. And feeling guilty often lead him into letting Sammy get his way.   
So, he accepted. 

-•-  
Sam had been right though, it made him feel better. 

Driving on the road, blasting Led Zepplin's Whole Lotta Love as loud as he could because they were driving in the middle of nowhere and no one could tell him otherwise, with his brother at his side marveling on the landscape of American roadside. It made him feel easier, brought him back to simpler times.   
And he allowed himself to forget about the reason he felt his chest tight, to forget about everything he had lost and dwell on how much he loved what he still had. Because at the end of the day, it would always be Sam and him. 

"So, what's game plan? We look for the werewolves, silver bullet those suckers and we go home early morning?" He questioned enthusiastic, Sam nodded.   
"Sounds too easy, doesn't it?" He chuckled. "No traveling to the literal pits of hell to get something done?"   
"I see ya. It's honey on oatmeals compared to our weekend." 

The town was becoming nearer, little shops and different stop places becoming clearer across the streets.   
"Speaking of oatmeal, should we stop for breakfast?" 

-•-

They stopped at a little restaurant downtown. Dean ordered his usual eggs, bacon and waffles while Sam ate an assortment of different tropical fruits with yogurt and honey. He grabbed a newspaper and the main titles immediately caught his eye.   
"And another one bites the dust." Sam grabbed the other side of newspaper, reading over the lines of the front page.   
"So, college student found dead in campus, ribcage ripped open. Usual werewolf routine." While reading through, Sam's expression changed. "...And blood drained from her body."   
"So what, vampires and werewolves are friends who share victims now?" Dean shrugged "it's looking more and more like Twilight, I don't like it."   
"Maybe witches?"   
"I don't know man, but we should change and give her dorm room a little visit for our culprit. Shall we?" 

-•-

They knocked on a dorm door a few hours later, FBI batches ready. It was a part of the job he thoroughly enjoyed and wished he could do more often.   
"Karen Evans?" Sam asked to the young blonde girl who oppended the door. "FBI. We're investigating the murder of Jamie Day, would you mind answering a few questions."  
She looked frightened, and right away both Sam and Dean shared a knowning look. She knew something. But she nodded and allowed them in anyways.   
"We wanted to know if there's anybody she knew, anything she said that night that seemed out of place?"   
"No!" She was defensive, and to Dean that often meant guilty. But Sam side eyed him as a signal to wait. So he did. 

"Listen, Karen." Sam sat by her side, giving her the comprehensive look that he'd given Dean earlier. Dean admired Sam for his soft touch, it was a quality that not both of them shared. "I'm very sorry about what happened to Jamie, but whoever hurt Jamie is still out there, and we need to know because we want to help."  
Her eyes were brimming with tears, but she swallowed them down. Shaking them up. "She said she was going to see her boyfriend, Chris." 

"This..um.." Dean cleared his throat, making the girl and Sam turn to him in unison. "Chris, do you think he could be involved?"   
And the girl nodded. "He's...weird, but I never said anything because she really liked him. There's rumours about him, he's into dark stuff, but Jamie didn't care."   
"Alright, thanks for your collaboration. I'm sorry about your lost." 

And like that, they were on their way to Chris' house. 

-•-

"Something doesn't feel right about this Chris White."   
"The part where he's out of college dating a freshman or where he's possibly a werewolf that throws heart eating, all drinks on me vampire-werewolf parties?"   
They both chuckled.   
"I mean, it just seems too easy, you know?" Sam furrowed.  
"You're looking too much into it, man. We deserve this, once we're done, we're going to have dinner and leave sooner than we expected. Nothing wrong with that." 

They pull up in front of a small house and Sam checks back to see if its the right address, it is.   
The windows are covered with newspaper, and the steps of the house are completely covered in dust. 

"Alright." Dean handed him a gun charged with silver bullets and they headed towards the door. "Lets get over with."   
From the window, they saw someone peak out, ambar eyes glowing. 

Dean kicked the door down, landing a shoot on the werewolf's shoulder.   
The werewolf tried to run upstairs, they followed. 

"You have nowhere to hide Chris!" They walked through the hallway, following the trail of blood.   
They found him in a corner, to their surprise, hiding instead of trying to hunt them down.   
"Kill me." He whispered, slowly shifting into his normal form. Dean approached him, taking off the safety seal of the gun. "Gladly." 

But Sam gently lowered Dean's gun. He looked at Sam wondering.   
"Why did you kill her, your girlfriend. I get the other kills, but why her?"   
He shifted his glace towards Sam, golden eyes that slowly turned blue darkened by tears.   
"She made me do it."   
"She? Who she?" Dean shifted his gun back up.   
"Abandoned gun factory. Kill her. Tonight." 

And Dean fired the gun.   
-•-  
"So, maybe it's not as easy as we thought."   
They stayed parked there for a moment, reflecting.   
"More werewolves?"   
"Or vampires. Or both." 

It was later that day, with night just at their back when they parked on an alley near the only gun factory in town they could find.   
"So, here's how it goes. We sneak in, bring every piece of gear for any outcome we can think of. And kill anything inside." Sam nodded.   
"We have silver bullets, demon killing knife, holy water, an axe." Sam counted their equipment while they loaded out of the Impala. "I think that's as ready as we can be." 

"Alright, let's do this."

They sneaked easily with the dark of the night on them to the back of the building, entering through a broken window. A harsh smell of sulfur filled the space as they moved closer to the source of light inside the building.

"Werewolves and demons, it's a party then." Dean whispered.   
"I said it felt too easy." They clutched underneath a staircase, both visibly holding their breath every time the heard a voice too close.   
"Shut up."   
"Jerk"  
"Bitch."   
There was a loud sound storming through the air and suddenly the building went quiet, too quiet. 

"It is time, brothers and sisters." A female voice said, the rest of the creatures lingering in the room clapped. "For years we've been divided by our diferences, but today we stand for a bigger purpose. Serving she who is darkness."

There was a cheer breaking into the room. 

Dean peaked from their hidding place and noticed a pile of dead bodies and different body parts, the victims.   
Or in this case, sacrifices.   
"For once she reigns, our races will no longer face extinction, and only creatures of death will walk on earth."   
There was another cheer from the audience. 

"Now?"

 

Once Sam gestured towards the door, Dean turned his gun towards the audience, firing. "Now!" Sam threw a smoke bomb into the room, giving Dean enough time to clear enough of the room to make it safer to get in. 

Soon enough, the group of demons and creatures consolidated around each other once the smoke dicipated. And no matter how many heads he cut, or how many demon eyes glowed red, there was still too many. And he began wondering if it had even been a great idea in the beginning.   
From the corner of his eye, he saw the demon who had been talking cover the walls with gasoline and knock a candle over before running upstairs.

"Sam! Sam!"   
"M' here!" He felt relief as soon as he heard Sam's voice.   
"Charles Manson is running away and the place is going on flames, go back to Impala." They reunited on a corner, and Sam looked at him with disbelief.   
"What? No!"   
"I'll distract them and then i'm going after her, i'll meet you in 10!" They were both breathing heavily, the smoke from the burning building making it harder to breathe.   
"Dean..."  
"In 10, I see you outside in 10. Alright?"   
Sam looked at him, and the look in Sam's eyes made something in him drop. But regardless, Sam went. 

" 'kay"  
He tried to cut as many heads as possible while trying to make his way towards the stairs, until he felt something grab him by his leg and knocked him down. 

The last thing he felt was teeth tearing on his throat, and the warmth of his own blood spilling on his chest. 

And then he opened his eyes and suddenly, the monsters and the building were gone.   
He was standing inside someone's office, large bookcases from the floor to an infinite ceiling standing in front him.  
"Hello again Dean."   
Dean turned around and to his surprise, Billie was standing right in front of him. Not dead, he guessed.   
"So...am I dead?"   
She chuckled. "Well, you did get your jugular ripped open, one would say so."  
"I mean.." he cleared his throat, standing awkardly on the corner. "Are you keeping me dead?"   
"Now, that depends on you." She seemed worried, but Dean didn't give it much attention. He looked around for a moment, trying to find end to the endless hall of Billie's reading room.  
"Okay, I promised my brother that i'd see him in 10 so...congratulations on the promotion. Good day." 

He started to walk towards the door, but felt his feet anchored to the floor. 

"I said it depends on, not it's up to you." Resting her scythe on the wall, she took seat behind the desk. She was intimidating, and Dean would never admit how constantly smaller she made him feel. "Word in the street is that you've been doing some interdimensional traveling."   
"I thought death knew everything." He tittered, Billie wasn't amused.   
"Then you can see how this white spot bothers me." She looked at him with eyes that could kill, so he found his giggling was out of place.   
Dean leaned closer, eyes narrowed. "Why do you care?"   
"I care because this 4 dimensional world we live in is like a house of cards," her nail dragged along the scythe's blade, Dean watched it rose her thumb and a small drop of blood escaped. She didn't seem too bothered. "And I don't need two Winchesters knocking it down."   
"Yeah." Dean snickers "that does sound like us."   
Billie stands, chin up. Showing undefeated and proud despite the fact that he once saw her die on her knees.   
He swallowed nervously, feeling his mouth dry.   
"Lucifer's son; when he was born, he opened a little rip."   
She didn't seem too satisfied.  
"And you just walked in?"   
"It's not candyland either."   
"I'd imagine."   
They stared at each other for a long moment, and Dean felt like she wouldn't let him live either. She didn't look too happy.   
"I'm letting you leave." He wondered with panic if she could read his mind.  
Dean was, to say the least, taken back from her answer.   
"Why?"  
"You want to be dead?" He felt a knot on his throat, and despite wanting so bad to answer and deny it, he didn't. 

There was an uncomfortable silence in the room.   
"You know where we are?" She asked him, and Dean could almost swear her glace softened a little bit.   
"Your reading room." He turned to look behind, watching the large bookcases that seemed to just get taller every time he looked.   
"Every single book here has one story of how you die, and not one is bitten by a vampire."  
Dean frowned. "You're trying to imply that it was deliberate?"   
She didn't answer.   
"It- it wasn't." He couldn't believe he was actually talking about this, with the actual Death.   
But he once had pizza with the previous Death at a restaurant full of dead people, so was this really the strangest thing he'd done?   
"I didn't care enough to stop it."   
She eyed him carefully, reading him like a book. Dean hated it. "You and your brother are too important for the natural order of our world, Dean, don't mess that up. See a therapist like the normal people do." 

Before he could protest, he opened his eyes and was back inside the burning building, he touched his neck for good measure and found all harm undone. From the corner of his eye saw the woman who had previously been preaching trying to get away from the flames. All others had burned down, the smell of death making him nautious. 

"You!" Out of instinct, he grabbed his gun and shoot the back of her thigh. Making her fall to the floor   
He approached her, holding his gun against her forehead.   
"Kill me! Go on! Fucking do it already." Her voice was raspy, eyes reddened from the smoke.   
"What the hell were you talking about? Back there?"   
The bleeding woman laughed weakly, and Dean fired another shut at her shoulder to make her stop.   
"Why would I? You're going to kill me anyways."   
He kneel in front of her, grabbing her by her throat.   
"Because if you don't i'll lock the exits and leave you here to burn. Or I can be merciful and kill you quick, that's why."  
She chocked, her hand trying to get him away in vane.   
"We were going to use the key to free her."  
His grip on her throat became tighter, all color draining from her face. "Which key?"  
"Ellis Taylor. He owns the key."   
He could see her skin becoming reddened around his hand, bruises beginning to appear. "Who were you freeing?"

Despite her state, tears rolling against her pale cheeks, she chuckled. Reaching closer to whisper at Dean's ear.   
"Long may she reign."   
And her hand gave in, her eyes rolling back. 

He left before the building collapsed, meeting Sam who impatiently waited against the right side of the car.   
"You took 15 minutes."   
Sam smiled, a clear weight lifted from his shoulders when he saw Dean was back.   
"Yeah, it got kind of difficult in there." 

-•-

He filled Sam in on almost everything that happened on the drive back to the motel. Telling him about the key and the purpose it supposedly served, and what finding the key could mean for whoever found it.   
"She mentioned a name."   
Sam looked at him, hopeful. They finally had a lead to get mom back, and for once, Dean was hopeful too. "Ellis Taylor."   
Sam furrowed. "Who the hell is Ellis Taylor?"   
"That's our next task to figure out I guess." 

They stopped when Dean's phone started ringing, he answered without much real thought about it. But he stopped the car abruptly when he heard the voice coming from the phone.   
Sam looked expectedly.   
"Yeah. We're on our way." 

-•-

They pulled over next to a phone stop, mouth a gape.   
"Cass? Is that really you?" Dean couldn't register everything he was, he only knew his heart was beating 10 times faster than it had inside the burning bulding. And he tried his best to restrain any tears that started to cloud his vision.   
"Well, yeah." He shrugged. Dean almost wanted to punch him for how laid-back he said it.   
Sam came out of the car next, looking more confused than anything. "We thought you were dead."  
"I was. But then I annoyed a cosmic entity so much it kicked me out."   
Dean smiled, genuinely smiled for what felt like an eternity.   
"I don't know what to say.." Sam seemed mostly shocked, but once he started to come to his senses, he saw Sam smile too.   
"I do." But he didn't, he didn't know what to do or say or how to act. So he did the first thing that came to his mind, he pulled Cass to his chest and held him close like the angel would disappear if he didn't hold him hard enough.   
"Welcome back buddy" He hid his face against Cas's shoulder, and allowed every emotion he was feeling slip if only for a second.   
"How long was I gone?" Dean could feel Cas's breathing against his neck, goosebumps going down his spine.  
He was back, he was really back. And even with the angel on his arms it was still so surreal, too good to be true.   
"Too damn long." 

Today had been a goddamn freaking good day, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So that wasn't foreshadowing AT ALL. 


	5. Diminuendo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean and Sam infiltrate into a party in L.A. with the goal of trapping the demon who owns the key.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before anything YEAH ELLIS IS BASED ON BRENDON URIE IN THE SAY AMEN VIDEO I saw a comment mentioning spn on the video and I couldn't help myself. Also, the beginning fluff was merely because I need more family team free will fluff. You're welcome
> 
> Also I'm sorry this isn't Dean centric (like, at all) But it just wasn't working with Dean as POV.

Sam's days always started the same.   
Wake up 6, coffee and breakfast and 7 and usually lingering around the library. Stay alone lurking for cases on his computer until Dean woke up. 

However, today was much different.

As soon as he walked into the kitchen, he was greeted with the smell of something burning.   
"Castiel's making breakfast." Jack was munching on a peanut butter sandwhich, drinking a glass of milk while sitting on the edge of the table dangling his legs. Sometimes he forgot that after all, Jack was a kid. Naive and gentle in nature, and moments like this one were a reminder of the fact that he shouldn't be more than 2 months old.   
Jack offered him the other half of his sandwhich and Sam wondered how this selfless, kind hearted kid was even related to Lucifer at all. 

"I didn't know you cooked." He bit into his half of the sandwhich. It was really, way too stuffed with peanut butter and way much of a sweet snack for breakfast. Sam grabbed himself a cup of coffee and ate the sandwhich down regardless.   
"I don't. But i'm as old as the second day of creation, maybe it's time to get learning." He flipped a burned down, way too puffy and probably raw in the inside pancake upside down. Butter sizzling and sparkling everywhere, but Castiel didn't seem to remotely mind so Sam wondered if he felt it at all. 

"Good morning sunshine." Dean walked in with renewed energy. And Sam couldn't help but smile to himself.   
"You're looking better."   
"Well, we got a win." He placed a gentle hand on Cas' shoulder, and Cas turned to look at Dean over his back with affection. "We got Cas back, we have a lead on a way to open the portal. I got all reasons to be better." 

They all sat down to eat Castiel's toasted and raw pancakes with packeted maple syrup Dean hid on a counter cabinet. They all started to look almost like a family. Dean even lied to Cass and even ate a second one in encouragement, and Sam thought it was straight up adorable. 

They ate in silence for a moment until Sam decided to pull his computer.   
"So i've been doing some digging into this Ellis Taylor guy..." Everyone seemed bothered by his interruption, but the sooner they got the key the faster they'd get mom back. And at the moment that seemed to be on his top priorities.   
"Ellis..?" Cas' eyes narrowed at him in confusion, cocking his head to the side like a confused puppy does.  
"The key guy." Dean patted Cas' shoulder, and Sam couldn't help but chuckle. Jack didn't seem to interested on their conversation.  
"Well, he's a musician. And he's having a party in L.A. to celebrate his new album launching this Saturday, needless to say, he'll be there."   
Dean put his fork down once the last bits were gone from the plate.   
"Okay so, we travel to L.A. and we have to be there by Saturday, let's get packing." Cas stood up to put the dishes on the dishwasher.   
"Can I.." Jack started loud, his voice shrinking when Dean's eyes met his. "Can I go?"   
"You seriously think we'd leave you on the bunker alone? Pack your things, we're leaving at 10." And although his words had been harsh, Dean left the room smiling, and he found in Jack's eager smile that he had noticed too. 

-•-

They weren't even 15 minutes from the bunker when Jack had already fallen asleep on Cas' shoulder. Cas just stared at the window with a content smile. 

"So, this guy, is he any good? I mean, we better know, right?"   
Sam chuckled.   
"Well, see it for yourself." He skimmed through his phone to find a song from the guy's new album, took off his headphones and played it on the air. It was barely audible  because of the noise coming from the outside of the car, but enough for Dean to take a peak.   
"Damn, I hate 2000s rock man." 

-•-

They had tried their best to find the cheapest L.A. hotel around the area, dressed up in the best suits they could find and soon enough they were in a taxi cab on their way to the party.   
L.A. was not really his thing, all the loud noises and extravagant lighting made him dizzy after spending so long in a bunker underground. But Dean? Dean was on his best element, even managed to charm his way into a party full of influential music figures, top models and any flamboyant personality you could think of.

"So, what are we looking for, really?" Dean leaned closer, trying to be heard over the overwhelmingly loud music coming from corner speakers.  
"Dark hair, brown eyes, about your height and according to the Rolling Stones article I found, 'charming and alluring personality'."   
He watched Dean's head turn around for a few different people passing by them. Shacking his head. "Right, that's about half the men here."   
Sam patted Dean in the back, chuckling. "Then, I don't know, ask names? Mingle." 

-•-

"It's been an hour and a freaking half, maybe James Dean is just not showing up tonight." Dean downed his third glass of Whiskey, swiping the back of his arm against his lips.   
"Maybe we'd find him if you weren't so decisive on spending that hour and a half at the bar."   
Dean shrugged, handing the waitress his glass and signalling her back to the bar. "It's a rich people party Sam, that whiskey costs more than us two together, I'm taking mere advantage of the situation.   
The waitress approached him and placed a refilled glass onto his hand, he smirked at her and Sam saw her wink. "Besides, it's free."   
He took a long sip from his glass, slamming it down carelessly, spilling half of the glass' contents on the floor.   
"Bathroom break, that whiskey is having an effect I think, but I'll see you in 10 and we can return to the hotel room." 

And he was gone before Sam could even protest. 

-•-

Sam sat by the bar waiting for Dean, almost tempted to call when 10 minutes went by but decided to give him some more time until he finally broke in to drag him back to the hotel.   
Eventually, he even asked for a glass of a colorful cocktail for himself too. It'd become clear that maybe Dean was right, and since they were on their way out there was no harm done. 

"Waiting for somebody?" He almost flinched in surprise when he heard the raspy voice behind him, tried his best to suppress any expression that could give him away before he turned around.   
"How'd you know?" Sam gave a nervous chuckle, hiding his hands on his pockets.   
The brunette smirked knowingly, eyes shining with something that made Sam feel his palms sweat.   
"I'm told I'm good reading people." He smiled from cheek to cheek, white pearls showing. "That and I saw your friend walk into the bathroom."   
"Oh." Sam found himself smiling back. "Well that explains it." He held his glass close to his lips and took a small sip.   
"I also think you may or may not be fond of me." Sam nearly choked on his drink, tried to conceal his very evident surprise. At least he was direct.   
"What? No. What makes you say that?" Fear started to build on the back of his mind, and it occurred to him that he probably already knew what it was about. He probably knew that they were hunters, and maybe socialising with him hadn't been his smarter move.   
"Well, you're making a hell of eye contact." The guy held his own glass to his lips, and Sam damned him for making of everything a goddamn show.   
But again, that was his job, throwing shows around. And he was good at it.   
"and that means two things." He smiled at Sam warmly, finishing his drink in another long sip. "One, you loathe the absolute shit out of me. Or two, you want to fuck." 

He watched Dean come out of the bathroom the moment that word was pronounced out of the other man's lips. Panic arose and he signaled the best he could for Dean to stay back without Ellis finding out. 

Alright, so maybe he had been completely wrong. And a celebrity who was also a demon who held one of the most important devices involving inter-dimensional traveling found him hot. So, what? Well, it would certainly make their work easier if he could get him alone. 

So, he played along. 

-•-

It was a long way drive back to the hotel room they were staying in, and Sam tried his best to not look dead nervous. Sure, nothing was gonna happen, walk in and demon trap him in.   
But it didn't help how he could feel the other's stare, quite literally undressing him with his eyes. Let alone the fact that he had never even tried to get someone for a random hook up, so even the conversation alone that had led to this had made of him a nervous shy train wreck.   
The walk through the hotel's hallways hadn't been easier either, his stomach was made a knot and he didn't remember much of what they talked about on their way to to the room. 

And while he had kept his hands to himself at every moment of the trip, he pushed him against the door as soon as they arrived to the room. Sam briefly wondered how the hell had someone shorter than Dean gotten the upper hand with him, but he remembered that the person assaulting his lips was not exactly a person at all. But he couldn't say he didn't like it either.   
And when he felt hips press against his own, he resented the fact that he had to walk into a room with his older brother right away. 

He opened the door, flicked the lights open as soon as the other man was inside the room as well.   
But he got a completely different reaction than what he expected.

Ellis remained with the same, shit eating-self satisfied grin of when they were back sitting at the bar. And both brothers were plain confused.   
"Stop looking so sour Sam, I will struggle a little bit if it gets your gears going." Red eyes clouded his disguise marrons, Sam shuddered.   
"Never gave you my name."   
The demon stretched his neck, making grotesque cracking sounds that Sam knew were probably not right for his vessel. "Didn't have to. You don't think I knew the infamous Winchesters were behind my tail?"   
His reddish eyes faded, a gentle smile directed at Sam. "I didn't lie though, I do think you're the prettier brother." 

Dean growled audibly, cuffing Ellis' wrists. "Yeah, you can flirt with him later, you'll have quite the time to come up with more pickup lines."

-•-

It'd been a lot of time on the road once they were back at the bunker. Ellis was sat on the middle of the interrogation room hidden behind bookshelves, refusing to make eye contact with neither of the Winchesters while smiling to himself.   
"I'm going to ask you one more time." Sam preffered to stay back during moments like this one, lingering behind his brother. "Where's the key?"   
He didn't answer. So Dean splashed more holy water on his face, making him shriek with pain.   
"I'm not going to tell you, Dean." He turned to face him, smirking despite his eyes bleeding and the several scars scattered around his face.    
"Oh you will." And he stabbed the other's hand, piercing through all the way to the wooden chair's arm rest.    
"You need the key badly, if you didn't you'd told your pet angel to smite me hours ago. I wonder what will last longer, my will or whatever you so desperately want back." 

Dean smiled a dangerous smile, the kind that was bad news and lacked any type of warmth or emotion. 

"Let's play another game, then." He retrieved the knife from Ellis' hand, blood pouring from the armrest to the floor. "They say the king of hell gave you the key. You're that good?"   
Ellis laughed, choking back by his own spit and blood.   
"Crowley? He's a treacherous motherfucker, with no ounce of love in the soul he doesn't have. Even I have standards."   
"Was"  
Ellis furrowed, genuine confusion and concerned flashing through his eyes. "He's dead?"  
Dean nodded.   
He looked away, smiling defeated. "How'd he go?"   
"He killed himself."   
"That doesn't sound like the Crowley I know."   
"Well." Dean shrugged. "He changed, I guess we kind of rubbed on him."   
Ellis turned to look at Dean, looking bitter. "You're going to kill me, I know it, and I'm not going to die because of Crowley. I'm no use to you dead, and as long as you and your brother get your way I'm dead man." 

Dean pulled a second knife, pressing it directly against the other's throat.   
"You wanna know why he gave it to me?"  
Both's stares could kill, yet, no one looked away.   
"Because if there was something Crowley was is proud, and there was things he thought he could only trust to his own kin."   
Dean's smirk died down, and Ellis smiled knowingly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Way to drop the bombshell, right? This is merely because I miss Crowley and we need a fancy demon on a suit and well, better to keep it in the family amirite?


	6. Antichrist

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After interrogating the half-demon, Sam makes a deal and they're back on the road again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love Crowley but him being a 100% functional parent just doesn't make sense in my book, oops.

They both stormed out, Castiel, who had been waiting outside the door followed a few steps behind the brothers.  
"How can we know he's not lying?"   
"What would he earn from lying?" Dean was completely caught of guard, and he was certain Sam was as well. He couldn't completely understand what this was making him feel, but he knew implications and he decided to focus on that instead. "I've.., you know, seen what Crowley is up to the weekends. It's not like it's unlikely you know."   
Sam sighed, running his hand through strands of loose hair. "So, Cambion, then? Like Jesse Turner?" 

Castiel scowled, fist already tightened around the base of his blade.  "We must kill him now that he's weak, the cuffs will only hold him off so far."   
Dean placed a tender hand over his fist, holding him off. "No, not without the key."   
Castiel's gaze was fierce, eyes glowing. "Dean.."  
And Dean understood him, he really did. The thing inside could evaporate him at the stake if so he wished, Cas was afraid. So was Dean, but if he was a means to get their mom back then so be it.   
"Cas." His hand moved over his shoulder and he responded to his ferocity with kind eyes. "Trust me." 

The lighting blue in his eyes died down, turning a mellow ocean once again and he nodded meekly. 

"We will kill the son of a bitch." His gaze slowly parted ways from Cas until Cas' blade was completely gone. "In time." A bang was heard against the floor. "I can hear you Dean!"  
He rolled his eyes.   
"I'll go try to... persuade him, again. And if the day goes by and he doesn't speak then we kill him." 

The metal creaking brought the Cambion's attention to the figure walking through the door, eyes shifting red.   
/he's trying to intimidate/ Dean dully noted, sitting on the backwards chair in front of the chained antichrist with each leg over the sides, resting his chin on the chair's back.   
"So here's the deal, man." Dean beamed surly, mockingly. "We need the key."  
It was a game of wits at this point, eyes narrowed, both trying to stay one step ahead the other. And regardless of his helpless position, Ellis stayed proud, chin up and grinning sarcastically.   
As Crowley's offspring, Dean wouldn't expect any less. 

"I'll talk to your brother only." His eyes stayed red, expressionless.  
Dean chuckled to himself. "Listen, pal. This little crush of you is cute and all, seriously, but-"  
He was cut off. "I will talk to your brother because out of two Winchesters he's the only one with no sociopathic reputation."   
Dean hated to admit it, but he was right.   
Out of both, Sam was most likely to be sympathetic, because god damn Sam and his precious golden heart, always too eager to show mercy and grant forgiveness.   
"Deal."  
Reluctant, the older Winchester exited through the iron door, and within a few minutes Sam was walking in. 

Sam was wary, arms crossed, head slightly tilted down to conceal his much evident height. And he didn't look to intimidate.   
And yet, he knew Sam wasn't afraid.   
From the words in the street, Sam had spent time inside the cage with Lucifer. He knew he wasn't easy to break, and yet he appeared much gentler than he probably was. Sam Winchester is a heart made of steel, compassionate and yet resistant. Out of the Winchesters, he admired Sam the most.    
"So, Crowley's your father."   
He chuckled. Great conversation starter Sam.   
"Not the word I'd use." He smirked, dimples showing. "My mother died after giving birth, and I became an orphan."   
To his surprise, Sam listened, grey eyes fixated on every expression he made.   
"The world isn't kind to orphans, specially once they're over 18. He showed up once I was a grown man, struggled my way into life and suddenly decided he wanted to play daddy." His eyes turned back to a dark chocolate brown, his expression softening. "Once I turned him down, he gave me a pretty key to make up for 30 years of neglection." 

Sam grimanced.   
"I know, sorry, not the right word."   
He grinned again, this time however, it was sincere.   
"I'm a monster that could smite you out of existence the moment I felt like it, and you're saying sorry for not being aware of my tragic backstory. How very Sam Winchester of you."   
Sam turned the chair around, and after a well thought moment, sat down. "Well, you haven't. So that means, the cuffs are still going strong or.." Sam rested his elbows on each side of his knees, and shared the same playful look that his older brother did. Except Sam's seemed less of a threat, more so just poking fun. "You don't want to." 

"I wanted to talk to you because I want to propose a deal, and your brother would have decapitated me before I even began talking." Sam furrowed, but allowed him to continue regardless. "You'll get the key."   
"And what exactly do you get back?" Sam seemed suddenly apprehensive, and he got the feel that Sam wasn't fond of demon plans.  
"Living."   
Sam's expression softened. "I-"   
"I heard your and your older brother's plan, Sam. Get the key, then i'm dead." Ellis looked at his feet, still catching glimpses of blood pouring from the wound on his forehead. "I don't know if you noticed Sam, but before you and your brother came around I was living a perfectly normal life." He shrugged. "Well, human life."   
He looked back at the younger Winchester, eyeing carefully in an attempt to read his answer. 

"I've never killed anybody, maintained a low profile as it comes. I /felt/ normal, even when i'm not, the illusion that the demon blood pumping through my veins would never come into play in my life ever was good, regardless of how much it lasted." And that one really hit home with Sam, who watched sympathetically through the other's words. "I like my life, dying by a stab wound to my chest wasn't exactly on my top 5 preffered activities for the week, and if getting the key ensures that you and your brother will never look for me again...then you have yourself a deal, Sam." 

-•-

"No!"   
"Dean..."   
Dean stormed into the library, Sam close by his back and a nervous Castiel deciding whether he should intervene or not.   
"I don't care what he did to get into your head, but it's not gonna happen. Deal?" Dean held tight on his grip on the table's edge until his knuckles went white. Castiel shared a look of worry with Sam, but backed away cautiously.   
Every once in a while, the brothers would get in an argument, and Castiel was forced to come into conclusion that there was just things he couldn't fix for them.

"If we said yes to this deal, just exactly what would we do?" He asked, raising his voice over the brother's in order to claim either's attention.   
"He said the key was stolen from him by a treasure hunter, she's selling it to the best candidate and who offered the biggest dollar number." Sam answered on a rush, recieving an exasperated sigh from Dean.  
"And the best buyer is...?"   
"A prince of hell, the last living one." 

"Fucking peachy. Don't you think that maybe this could all be a big trap to give us all away to a prince of hell?" Dean was particularly beyond displeased, and he felt comflicted.   
He wanted to ask what was wrong, try to find a way to ease him down. But Dean was unpredictable, and it was times like this one where he could only stand by with arms crossed.  
"And if it is I will deal with it myself." Dean's anger disolved, he turned to look at Sam and nodded. He looked unconvinced, but Dean trusted Sam, and maybe that was just enough to allow it to happen. Regardless of all the protests he'd give them soon enough. 

-•-

After almost an hour of argument in the morning before leaving, they'd come to conclusion that they'd leave the Cambion go with no handcuffs.   
Cas had a point when he clarified that the handcuffs could be doing absolutely nothing at all to hold him off, thing the bastard himself later confirmed which meant that the handcuffs had just been faux security after all. 

Dean briefly wondered if they had ever worked at all, he also wondered how after 2 hours of torture he was still alive in one piece. 

So at the end, they left with Sam and Dean sitting in the front and Castiel sharing with Ellis on the back.    
Cas sat almost stuck to the opposite side of the car, avoiding eye contact with the half-demon on the back seat. He wasn't too happy about the whole thing either, and Dean smiled to himself.    
His mind drifted back to Cas, to what he felt regarding Cas. He found he was happy, and in a very long time thinking about his friend didn't bring him sorrow.   
Maybe he should talk with him about it, but merely thinking about it made his stomach drop.

He'd try, maybe after everything with the key was done, when they have time. They had the time of the world after all, now that Castiel was back.  

"So the prince of hell.." Sam's voice staggered his thoughts away.   
"Asmodeus." The cambion said. Castiel turned to look around in recognition of the name.   
"He's the responsible for corrupting humanity with lust, twisting their sexual desires." Cas added, revolted.    
"You really are a smart cookie, aren't you halo?" He smirked at Cas, who tried his best to just ignore him. 

"Asmodeus is also the new King of hell, I assume he took this position after both Crowley and Lucifer were out of the game." He shifted from his seat, inching closer to Dean and Sam. "He's also Lucifer's weakest, I assume his acquiring of the key must be a means to appear stronger to other demons. A power move."   
Dean chuckled. "Well, for a guy who supposedly tries to stay away from this you surely have done your homework."   
He heard a low, displeased, grunt from the cambion. And Dean knew the guy was struggling to not destroy him at the stake.   
Regardless, he beamed eagerly. "I stay informed.   
Every once in a while, someone would break into my house and try to murder me, I needed to know who and why."  
This time, Dean gave in the argument, keeping his eyes on the road.    
"Alright then."

And the rest of the drive went quiet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is way shorter than I intended but I had to cut it down because keeping it as long as I first intended would make it around 7k words alone.   
> ALSO I KNOW I PROMISED THIS WOULD BE 100% DESTIEL but ellis and sam make me soft I promise more deancas soon


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided to split what was gonna be this chapter in 3, so if it's way too short. That's why.

After a few solid hours of driving, they'd come to an abandoned apartment building in the middle of a clearing in the forest. They parked the impala behind some bushes that surrounded the area, watching through night vision goggles for any activity inside.   
"If you fucking set us up.." Dean whispered through closed eyelids, tapping his foot on the flooring impatiently.   
"I didn't." He replied, eyes focused on the different windows of the edification. "I promised I'd help you get the key, then i'm out."   
Dean chuckled, earning a look of aversion from him. "No offense, but i've met two non-shitholes demons and they're all dead, you're not. That means either you've been awfully lucky, or you're the one who does the killing."

Finally, they spotted a black car arriving at the scene before he could even come up with an answer. 

"That our guy?" Dean asked, practically ripping the goggles from his hands. The groups attention finally shoot back up, all eyes focused on the shadows walking out of the car.   
"Yes." Castiel assured. "Something's wrong."   
"What is it?"   
Ellis grimanced. "He's brought little to no backup. He either knows we're here and is trying to lure us with an easy target..."   
"Or he has no clue he's being followed." Sam added.   
They all shared a silent look with each other. "Shall we take our chances?" Castiel asks.   
Dean tugged out a blade from his pocket, nodding. "Well.., we're here aren't we?" 

-•-

They waited a couple of minutes until Asmodeus had disappeared through the doors, leaving two of his men guarding each side of the door.   
Dean and Castiel took them off efficently, leading the group through the building with wariness. 

Two voices became even more audible with each floor they passed through the fire emergency stairs, and soon the whole building was clear of any other of Asmodeus' lackeys. Leaving just him and the woman locked in one of the top rooms.   
And everything was going better than they expected until it wasn't. Dean heard a gunshot from behind him, and he knew that coming here had been a wrong move to begin with.   
He turned around, expecting to see either Cas or Sam on the floor, the cambion still standing and prepared himself to let guilt wash all over him for not trusting his gut and hadn't killed him when he had the chance. 

But the scenario unfolding before him was much more different than he anticipated. 

A group of demons were standing on the other side of the corridor, both Cas and Ellis were forced onto their knees. Sam was laying on a pool of his own blood, gasping frantically for air. He was too, forced onto his knees too before be could even attempt to go near Sam. 

He looked at Cas seeking comfort, and Cas looked back with as much sorrow. 

"Well, well, well." He heard a thick Southern accent speak behind him. "What do we have here?"   
Asmodeus was standing proudly, walking around the 4 of them with the same glare of a hunter stalking at it's prey. 

"I said I didn't want inconveniences, Scar." He looked back at the redhead who stood still beside him, and despite not being on their place, she looked terrified.  
"I could never predict they'd be here." She answered, sobbing tears back despite herself.   
Asmodeus took firm grip of her jaw, making her look at him directly in the eye. "You're trading with the king of hell, dear."   
"I should've been more careful." She replied, tears dwelling on her eyes.  He leaned close to hear ear, whispering. "Do better."   
Without warning, he snapped her neck, dropping her lifeless body on the carpet. 

"That's seriously a shame." He chuckled. "I didn't come all the way here to kill someone, I just want to clear that one out."  
Dean looked back at Sam, grateful that Sam tilted his head slightly to look back at him. But color was draining fast from his face, and Dean felt so damn useless for not being able of doing anything to help.    
"I'm feeling quite fucking troubled, I feel like maybe I deserve to have something to make up to me. A lil' price for my endless patience, you know?"   
Asmodeus moved from in front of Dean to the back, inching closer to Ellis and Cas. Ellis was looking down, avoiding the prince's glare like hell meanwhile Cas looked at him with defiance in stupid-soldier like bravery.   
Asmodeus kneeled to be on Cas' eye level, beaming at him with mockery. Patronizing him. "And I think i'm going to take this precious thing home with me." 

"No!" Dean exclaimed without thinking, attempting to stand up despite the demons trying to keep him down. Anger bolinging inside him.   
"Dean.." Cas voice was broken, breathing heavy and blue eyes anchored on him.   
"Oh, what, this yours?" Asmodeus directed to Dean, smiling condescendingly. When Dean didn't answer, the prince of hell chuckled. "He is! Well damn, that's a fucking shame. I really hate to break love stories up, I really do."   
Dean shuddered when he felt the prince's beard tingle against his ear, using all of his will power to be still.   
"But let me tell you Dean. I've got an awfully strong sweet tooth, and if you heard the things that are said about angels..." He laughed heartedly. "You'd want to try it out yourself." 

And that was as far as Dean's will power goes.   
"Bite me." He spit on Asmodeus's face.   
The man in white looked away, wiping his face with the back of his hand. "Right..." And to Dean's surprise, he beamed. "I tried to do this the nice way." His eyes burned with fury, red and angry.   
He pulled the key from his pocket, everyone's eyes traveling to the shining object on his hand.   
"Let's test this bad boy up, shall we?" He shifted the key midair, and to everyone's amazement, a rip smiliar to the one caused by Jack's birth opened.   
"Let's get this over with. Boys! Get rid of them, pack the angel all nice and good for the trip." 

Asmodeus himself kicked a dying Sam through the portal with little to no struggle, meanwhile Dean and Ellis fought like hell to get their way out and make it back to Cas.   
However, it proved useless at the end. 

The last thing Dean saw before being swallowed by the portal was Castiel writhing against the demons' hands, being dragged away downstairs. 

-•- 

The first thing Sam was aware of was the warm blow of air, a strong floral smell and the sun kissing his skin.   
He was laying on his back, and for a moment he decided to just stay like that. Eyes closed, breathing quietly and enjoying the faux sense of peace.   
Then, memories from earlier kicked in. 

He heard noise around him, aware of the other presence's breathing. 

"Am I in heaven?" Sam asked cautiously, keeping his eyes shut. He hears a soft chuckle, someone's palm pressing against the place he remembered the wound to be "I'll take that as a compliment." ,and sudden pure energy and vitality being injected onto his system.   
Sam opened his eyes.   
Ellis was sitting on the grass next to him, hands together on his wound and Sam could feel the pain slowly die down. Red light shining from Ellis' hands, and Sam noticed a distraught expression coming from the one beside him.   
Was he in pain? Had he been hurt too? 

He also remembered Castiel being dragged away, and now his thoughts were all set on his older brother.   
"Where's Dean?"   
Ellis looked up to Sam, sympathy visible on his expression and there was no doubt on Sam that it was genuine.   
"He went to a stream down from here, he said he wanted to be alone." 

As soon as he felt his wound close, he stood up to look for Dean.

-•-

Sam walked for a few minutes following the noise of water flowing until he found Dean sitting by. Throwing rocks against the water's surface.   
"Dean."   
He didn't even flinch. "You should be resting, you nearly died on us 16 minutes ago." Despite Dean's rejection, Sam sat next to his brother.  
"I wanted to check with you, to see how you-"   
"Stop." Dean spoke quietly, stammering with his own words. "Just stop right there."   
Sam could see tears forming on Dean's eyes, and he felt a familiar sting of guilt stab him on the back.   
"Dean-"   
"Sam." Dean turned to look at him, his expression was unreadable. "Let's just go."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooooo i'm so sorry, I hate that right after deancas reunion Cas gets taken by Asmodeus. Though I was always frustrated because Dean never really knew in the show? 
> 
> Next chapter will be completely Sam centric and there won't be much general plot on it apart from Sam-angst and more background on Ellis and Crowley in general. (Ellis McLeod sounds so fucking badass and I hadn't realised until today whoops)   
> So if you wanna skip it chapter 9 will be ALL deancas angst. However I don't know when deancas will be 100% an established couple. I hope you're fond of slow burn. (?)


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooooo i've decided to write this chapter in two parts. Mainly because my computer is about to die down and I was just halfway through writing and also because I don't want too much time in between chapter updates so....  
> Also a psa that this chapter and next won't have anything Dean/Destiel related, sorry about that but next chapter after that is all Dean angst and I promise a deancas Kiss soon enough....BUT UNTIL THEN I wanted to give Sam more attention because the show already ignores him enough Ellis because he's important later on and not just me wanting to give Sam a love interest I promise I promise for my life. ALSO there's lesbian witches in here somewhere as a subplot because while I have a m/m pairing as main focus WHY STOP WHEN IT CAN BE GAYER

There's an unmistakeble feeling of impotence to being the younger sibling, because it's so well established that you´re meant to be the vulnerable one since day one. The young and fresh, the one who needs to be looked after. And this leaves the role of the protector to the oldest, the responsability lies entirely on their shoulders regardless of how young they might really be. So when Dean was shattered, trying to pick himself up on his own, Sam felt completely useless.   
Even when they were kids, Dean would take every hit after hit, bruise after bruise and every punishing glace John could throw at them. All on efforts that Sam wouldn´t have to. 

And it had been the same now, too.  
But growing older Sam realised Dean was not strong, he wasn´t brave.  
He was made of flesh and he´d get hurt too. And every once in a while, Dean would let out every cry of pain he´d silenced in the past, and Sam knew it must hurt like hell.   
And seeing Dean hurt was killing him.   
Dean´s hands gripped the wheel to dear life, and Sam could see his jaw visibly tense to hold back the tears that dwelled on his eyes. He wanted to say anything at all that could ease his brother. But considering that they were not alone in the vehicle, Sam thought Dean´s reaction would be very far from positive.  
So he decided to just watch the sun set the rest of the way, and allowed the uncomfortable silence that fell on all pasengers of the Impala settle.

Nightfall was on their tail when they arrived back to the bunker, Dean parked the Impala inside the garage and stormed out of the car, Sam thought about following before his eyes settled on Jack´s beaming face. He looked around, searching for Castiel to be anywhere around the garage and his enthusiam slowly faded away.  
Sam felt his stomach drop when Jack looked at him with a confused frown on his face, and he found himself avoiding direct eye contact with Jack at all.   
" Where is Castiel?"   
Sam looked up to the door frame Jack was standing under, trying to form any proper answers on top of his head before blurting anything out at all.   
"He was kidnapped, I´m very sorry Jack." Sam turned around to find Ellis standing beside him, surprisingly sympathetic to a guy who had barely if not talked to Jack at all. "We´ll find him, I promise."  
He saw a tear run down Jack´s cheek and he immediately felt the impulse to hug him. He abstained however, content with just laying a hand on Jack's shoulder.  
Jack flinched away from him anyways.   
"I could have-" Jack was staggering, sobs interrumpting any coherent word from coming out of his system apart from a soft gasp, his vision blurred with tears. "I could have helped."  
Sam tried to reach for Jack again, but he turned with eyes burning with fury despite the pain. "I told you I could-"  
"Jack." He sighed "We don´t know that."   
"If I had been strong enough I could have done something." Sam tried to reply, but found himself stumbling with his own words as well. "I have to go."   
"Jack.." He watched Jack´s wings unfold, taking half the space in the room.   
"I´ll come back when i´m stronger. I have to."   
"Jack, n-" But before he could get anything out, he was gone. 

Sam let out a loud growl, brushing his hands through strands of hair.   
He´d call Jody to make sure she called if she had any information on Jack, and god knows what he´d do to help Dean. And now, he had both mom and Cas to think about.   
Any progress they thought to have done had been erased, and he felt like they were back to 0.   
"Are you alright?" He looked beside him, smiling weakly.   
"Yeah, you-"   
In everything that had happened in the last few minutes, he´d barely registered the fact that Ellis was still standing there. He was not chained, he was not forced to stay, and yet he did. Sam didn´t decide how he felt about it yet.  
"I will go to, uh, bed." scratching the back of his head, he chuckled softly in an attempt to ease the awkwardness on the air. He briefly wondered if he could read what he was thinking, because he seemed suddenly amused and Sam didn´t really feel like asking. "If you want to go, or stay, there´s a few spare rooms around."  
Ellis nodded eagerly, returning a chucke just as awkwardly and Sam wondered if he was being poked fun at. "Sure thing, chief. Goodnight I guess, sorry about your friend."   
They both parted ways and Sam sneaked into his room decidedly to get at least a few hours of sleep. 

Sleep elluded him all night, he rolled on his back for what felt like hours and he found himself checking his phone to see anything new from Jody about Jack.   
He eventually decided he would not be getting much sleep anyways, grabbed a book from his shelf to at least try to keep himself busy.   
His head snapped at the phone when he could hear it ringing, he shoot to the bed side table and answered with not much second thought or double check on the phone number in the screen.   
"Jody?" He spoke through the phone, relieved.   
But it was definetely not Jody.   
"Sam and Dean Winchester?" A young woman spoke through the phone, catching his attention. "I need your help."

The woman on the phone was extremely vague on details, and it started to feel more so as a bad idea the longer he thought about it. But he packed his bag anyway, loaded it on the back of the impala and tried to drive away before Dean could even find out he was gone.   
But the wheels were stuck, and no matter how loudly into life the Impala's engine roared they wouldn't move.   
His first thought was maybe a mechanical flaw, so he stepped out of the car to check it out.   
"You were planning to go alone?" He heard Ellis' raspy, alluring voice speak behind him. And he thanked all the gods it had not been Dean.   
"I thought you would be gone by now." In his defense, he hadn't tried to sound harsh. But now he wondered how it'd been that he hadn't been pulverized into nothing yet.   
"I made a deal, I am nothing but a man of my word, remember?" He was snarky though, and Sam found it disturbing how alike Crowley he could sound sometimes. "You get the key, I get to walk out without Dean Winchester putting a bullet on my forehead. And since you two still don´t have the key, one would say i'm stuck with the two of you."   
"And that equates on not letting me go alone…how?"   
"Because I don't get to be a decent person who doesn't surprisingly want you dead, right?" He chuckled. "Come on, get out of the drivers seat. I'm sure it can´t be legal to drive like that, you're going to fall asleep and kill someone along with yourself."   
He didn't know how, but he'd somehow been persuaded into taking a nap while Ellis drove him across Kansas.   
Somewhere in the back of his mind he reminded himself that the slight smell of sulfur on the drivers seat would later give him away, and Dean would be beyond displeased.   
But all damage was already done, so he just tried to look out the window to ease himself into sleeping through the trip. 

Sam woke up to a soft melody, an 80s song that he'd probably heard Dean butcher some time before long enough for Sam to be able of recognising it. His thoughts registered that it was not the original melody either, but the half-demon on the drivers seat singing along to the lyrics.   
He then focused on the warm sun that warmth his skin through the open window, and wondered how he'd slept enough to be in the middle of the day if he had gone to sleep before sunrise.   
He allowed himself a few minutes of peace still through closed eylids, eventually opened them just to let the other know that he was awake.   
He stopped singing when he realised Sam's precense, removing from his lips a ciguarette he shut off on the window and threw it it out into the road. The whroad. The whole car stank to sulfur and smoke and Sam knew that if the lack of fresh air wouldn´t kill him then Dean definetely would. "Morning sunshine, how would you feel about breakfast?"   
Sam smiled sluggish, trying to rub off dry drool stuck to his chin. "Hey. I thought you didn´t eat, or sleep."   
Ellis beamed, and he seemed surprisingly cheerful. "I don´t but I have been inside this car for 7 hours all by myself and I do get bored, besides, you do neand I do get bored, besides, you do need to eat."  
Sam felt his stomach churr at the mention of food, at least he was right on that. 

They decided to stop at a diner near the beginning of El Dorado, it was a small establishment with the same retro design that many more like this one spread across the country had. It made Sam feel oddly peaceful, it almost felt like home. They saw on a booth together across each other, each one eyeing the menu carefully.   
Sam ordered fruit salad and eggs on toast, while Ellis just stuck a regular black cup of coffee  
"I always liked this kind of places, I had my first gig in a place like this. Always kicks nostalgia like a bitch." Sam smiled to himself when he realised that Ellis was trying to start conversation, and thought about how good it felt to just hang around with someone. With no aparent worries, and it almost felt like they were just two normal friends and the fact that one of them wasn´t even human became easy to ignore.   
"I grew up stuck to many like this.." While they were talking, the waitress placed their orders and Sam took a bite of toast eagerly. "My dad, he used to take me and Dean on hunts almost all the time. That meant that it was always either this or takeout, I´ve never had a home cooked meal in my life."   
They laughed, and Sam watched Ellis lean onto the soft seats of their booth.   
"Well, I´m glad we can relate on something. Not belonging anywhere, it´s weird." He raised the cup to his lips and took a sip of the black coffee, frowning. "And man their coffee is awful."   
They continued to talk through Sam eating his order up, and even a tad longer after so. But they were interrumpted when a text from the young woman from the call lit up his phonescreen. So they hurried up, paid and left the diner on a rush.

They were arriving at the caller's house when they heard cries and sobs, Sam knocked the door down, walking in with his gun raised up. He didn't expect to walk into a woman bleeding on the floor, hear throat slit open, barely being kept alive by a gentle glow coming from another woman's hands. He kept his gun up, and the woman performing the spell fliched. "Don´t shoot!" Sam lowered his gun cautiously. "I called"   
It was a few hours later and the 4 of them sat around a chimney fire. The woman who had been previously on the floor was still in shock, and they all stayed in an awkward circle of silence until Sam decided to step in.   
"Let me get this straight," With both palms resting opposite side of his knees, he directed to the woman who had made the call. "you called hunters, to help you hunt a hunter?"   
She seemed less scared with the both of them around anyway, and Sam had decided earlier that she didn't seem to present a threat.   
"He's a different kind of hunter, he's an assasin." She seemed helpeless, blue eyes blown out in terror while holding a hot mug of tea close to her body for warmth. "He was looking for someone."   
Sam furrowed, leaning closer to listen to the witches' narration. "Who?"  
"Rowena Mcleod." She answered in a soft, meek voice. "He's killing witches who belonged on her coven, had I not arrived earlier I fear he would have done the same to Lily." The caller reached to hold the other's hand lovingly and Sam nodded in understandment. 

They were back on the hotel room Sam had rented to spend the night, Sam was reviewing the security footage sent over by Lily and Alicia, drinking from a beer bottle while skipping forward on the tape carelessly. Ellis pased around nervously, hands resting on each side of his pockets.   
"So, Rowena Mcleod is Crowley´s.."   
Sam turned around, looking at the other sympathetically. "She´s dead."   
"Well, clearly this guy didn't get the memo."   
Sam was about to comment when he saw the hunter fit into frame, breath caught on his throat when the camera caught his face. He zoomed in to make sure. "Dammit Ketch."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so Lily and Alicia might be one of those recurrent characters that aren't even secondary characters but we'll see them again soon because I ship them okay, they're soft witches in love and they deserve a whole story of their own. 
> 
> AND rating will go up next chapter because porn-y shenanigans, totally necessary for the plot I SWEAR on Chuck. And on a more serious note, there's a mention of rape in the next chapter, nothing too big but it's still good to read with cautions kiddos. 
> 
> And before I forget, PlEASE PLEASE LEAVE COMMENTS. I'd like to believe that those 14 people who kuddo mighttt be reading so far, but it's just an easy way to make sure anyone is reading. Tell me what you like, what you don't like and what you'd like to see more of. This fic was born out of my frustration as a fan to the show and it's also a love letter to anyone who might feel the same. This fic is for anyone who wants more LGBT content in supernatural, more good female representation or whatever it is you feel like the show is lacking. So if you tell me what you hope was different, I can add it up to this fic and my list of times supernatural did me wrong. :) SO PLEASE comment, and if you can't because of anxiety (tots get it, I have a hard time leaving comments because of anxiety as well so it's all good) just your kuddo is a silent reminder that you're reading.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> // Ellis and Sam stay a first night in the motel room, feelings ensue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> // I'm so glad I'm finally done with this goddamned chapter. I spent almost 2 weeks writing this over (I think). At first, it seemed too porn-y, then it seemed just too boring, then it was way too long and now I decided i'm sticking to this. I have no problems with smut but I really didn't want this to be read as just that :) 
> 
> BY THE WAY THERES A MENTION OF RAPE SOMEWHERE IN THIS CHAPTER, after Ellis mentions the first person he killed, skip that part if you think that reading mentions of sexual assault can be triggering to you. Read safely, my lovelies. I really debated on adding it when I first thought about it, but being a victim of sexual assault myself I felt like it's sometimes necessary to approach this kind of stuff in a way that shows the damage it does to a person.  
> SO that's that. 
> 
> Also, sorry if the format is terrible. I have a new computer and i'm still getting used to it.

Ellis and Sam had decided to get dinner at a small coffee shop across the street.  
It was, for a change, completely different to what Dean would be more content frequenting, and Sam could count with his right hand the times in the last few years that he'd been to anything alike. He remembered he used to go to one every Sunday night with Jessica, they'd sit on each corner of those long tables with stools and do all the work they had been neglecting all weekend. Sometimes they'd sneak glaces at each other, and other times they'd hold hands underneath the table and Sam would feel like he was 13 again. He'd grown fond of coffee shops because of that.

 

Tonight, they also sat on one of the elongated tables. Sam plucked his computer on, switching it to life and they were back to staring at Ketch's profile.  
"So, who is that? Ketch, you said." Sam looked over his shoulder. Ellis was fidgeting with a small coin, eyes fixated on Sam.  
Sam tried to recall most of what happened last year, finding that the answer to that question was way more difficult than he originally had thought I'd be. So, he decided he'd mention the most important part and that part only. "He's dead." His thoughts wandered back to mom, finding that details were not necessary.  
"Well, tell him that because I believe he did not get the memo." Ellis reached over to the pad of his laptop, brushing Sam's hand off with a gentle push. He pinched the zoom option on the man's face. "So dead man is looking for a witch, and he's urgent enough to kill in the process. Tell me, Mr. Turning, what do you reckon?"  
"Problem is, Rowena is dead too." Sam shifted from the computer to Ellis, taking note on how he visibly tensed his jaw, writted his teeth at the mere mention of Rowena. But it wasn't the moment to ask, he figured, so he made a mental note to ask later.  
"If there's anything I know for sure is that nothing dies, Sam, not entirely."— "Well, it's not always /this/ literal, regardless."  
They had been exchanging glaces at each other for the past couple minutes, but Sam couldn't help to linger there longer than he should have. He wondered if he'd been too obvious about trying to read him, figure Ellis out. But even if he'd been, Ellis didn't seem to bothered.  
"You think she's alive." He'd intended for it to be a question, but it'd grown to moreso sound as a statement. And he prayed to anyone willing to hear that Ellis wouldn't take it as a confrontation. "I think that being a witch and already having a 'dead' person looking for her makes it unlikely— I wouldn't trust a witch to stay dead, even less if she was Crowley's mother."   
"Do you want her to be?" The question had slipped before he'd had second thoughts, and then he wondered if he should have asked at all. Before he could answer, a waitress approached them both and Sam considered that maybe talking about this in a coffee shop hadn't been the greatest idea he'd had.

Sam had fallen asleep the moment they'd come back at the motel room.  
He was deep in sleep when he heard a high pitched scream. 

His eyes peeled open to find the source.

  
The room was completely empty, and an unnerving silence reigned apart from the pain driven yelps and gasps from unkown source.  
A small droplet of blood landed on his forehead. Sam felt, not only his heart, but the whole world stop. And there was only that room, that droplet of blood, the intense heat above him that he'd only now become aware of and the woman stuck to the ceiling. He looked up, his eyes meet with hers for a millisecond and Sam found he was now unable to look away.  
He'd become aware of something new in the room, too. Something dark, evil, something that he could feel grow closer but he could not run away of.  
"Sam." He heard being whispered against his ear, an intense smell of sulfur invaded his space and he was aware of his own tears now. He was finally able to move, turning his head to the side only to find a pair of yellow eyes looking straight at him with malice.

He jolted awake, and he felt relief fill his chest when he found the room to be back to normal. And the heat from the ceiling was gone.

Sam looked to the bed on the other side of the room, finding it completely empty to his surprise. The room was completely pitch black, but he could find Ellis sitting with his back at the bed because of a pair of crimson, glowing eyes that looked back at him in the dark. He noticed that there was a golden edge to them, and he sort of reminded Sam to Jack when he'd been born.

  
He looked just as lost as Jack, too. And surprisingly, helpless.  
Sam felt like he'd just walked into something he shouldn't have, and he just stared at him for a solid minute, clueless to whether he was being stared at back or not.

"Do you often have nightmares, Sam?" Ellis' voice was a merely a whisper, but the dead silence of the night made it sound much louder, clearer. And it made Sam feel oddly intimated, somehow.  
"Sometimes." He limited to asking in a quiet mumble. "Not as often as I used to."  
His eyes adjusted to the darkness, and he could barely makeout the shape of the other's body.  
Nodding his head in understanding, he pulled his legs close to his chest. Sitting like a small child, he rested his chin on his own knees.

There was another moment of awkward silence between them, until a small flickering flame that danced around Ellis' fingers claimed his attention. Sam watched the flame move on it's own, as if it was being manipulated by an external force as it landed promptly on the tip of the ciguarette resting on the corner of his lips. 

 

"You're not meant to smoke in motel rooms."  
In my defense," He said while blowing a small cloud of smoke into the air. "I haven't stayed in a motel room in years, and hotel rooms always allowed me to do what I wanted. I'm sorry."  
To his own surprise, Sam cackled with laughter at how effortlessly swanky he sounded. "You're being obnoxious."  
He was pleased to hear Ellis chuckle, and he could makeout the line of a smirk underneath the blue moonlight. "I'm being honest. I got out of my comfort zone for you, Sam," He sighed with exhagerated despair. "The things I do for pretty boys with pretty apple-green eyes."

They both chuckled, and once more, there was only silence. But it was one of those times where someone's presence alone was a form of comunication, and just the other's breathing was enough to keep them company.  Sam felt the rumbling in his chest caused by the nightmare subduing, and the once present tension seemed to dissipate into thin air.

"It was a nightmare about my mother," He could make out the other's head snapping back at him the moment he started talking. Sam scratched the back of his head when he noticed how fixated the crimson eyes had become on him, but he continued regardless. "She died on a fire when I was young and-" Dean floated back into his memory, and Sam swore to god he could almost hear Dean's warning in his head. /We can't trust him./

  
But Sam wanted to, and even yet he felt guilty because, regardless of his own reasons and whether they matched Dean's or not; He didn't want to mention Azazel, and he really didn't think he needed to either. "I know it's probably not accurate, I was just a baby back then...But details alone, her death changed us. It changed Dean, changed our dad.." Sam chuckled humourless "I don't think the nightmare is the dream itself.."  
"It's the meaning behind it." Sam turned to look at the figure siting in the corner, he nodded, hopeful that Ellis would be able to make the gesture out by the little moonlight that filtered through the window. "You sound like you speak from experience."  
"It's because I do."  
Sam frowned. "I thought you couldn't sleep."  
"I don't sleep, doesn't mean I don't need it." Ellis mumbled quietly through half closed eyelids. "I choose not to, big difference. If you could escape nightmares, wouldn't you?"  
Sam nodded, Ellis was right. "Nightmares about?"  
"The first and last person I killed." Sam could feel the moment his heart skipped a beat, his mind wandered back to Dean and the big steamy bowl of 'I told you so' that he'd be serving Sam had he been here at the moment. But he still wanted to believe that maybe Dean was wrong, so he observed Ellis warily, willing to hear the rest of whatever Ellis had to say.  
"Don't look at me like that Sam, it's a complicated story."  
Sam felt a spring of guilt hit him hard when he'd figured that, while he might not be able of seeing anything but Ellis' eyes, Ellis could probably see him to perfection. "It's a long night, I will listen."

 

Ellis seemed conflicted, and after a solid minute of pure silence Sam had almost figured that he wouldn't hear the story at all. "Alright, sit back, cause' it's a long one." Sam nodded, sitting with his back against the head of the bed, dragging his legs back to the same position Ellis was sitting in.  
"When I turned 18 I started singing in small bars. There was a man, Nathan Turner ,a music producer , he would come every night and would watch me perform every single Frank Sinatra song I knew the lyrics of from the top of my mind. One night, he approached me and said he'd turn me into a star, I took the bait."

Sam could see his face shift into a scowl, hands tightening into fists. He could swear that the color of his eyes was becoming significantly more erratic, too, shifting from red, rose to golden subtones.  
"And he delivered, I wrote my first album that same year and moved to L.A soon enough. He threw a party, 'to celebrate your sucess', he had said. And at the end of the party, he roofied me and showed me the other side of fame. Welcome to Los Angeles, city of dreams and sexual assault." He could hear Ellis chuckle humourlessly, a bitter smile on his face. "He said it was part of the job, and you know what? It fucking was. Everyone in the industry knows, and everyone in the industry doesn't give a shit. All those pretty faces you see on Billboard Magazine? They don't look so pretty behind closed doors, they look as debauched and ruined as the face of a slave. And I guess, to a point, that's what they are."  
Sam swallowed. hard. Was there anything he could say? What do you say when someone tells you something as horrible as that? I'm sorry, that sucks?  
He was content with being able of pushing the most simple question that could come to his head at the time being. "Did you kill him?"  
"Not on my own."

 

A faint smell of burning plastic filled Sam's nostrils, and he realized Ellis had smoked the ciguarette to the filter. 

"Crowley comes in, tells me the answers to every bloody question I've had about myself all my life. And then suggests to kill him."  
He watched Ellis stinguish the flame between his fingertips, throwing the burnt plastic to the floor. "And then it looked like a good ass idea. So I waited for him to arrive, give me my daily rape drug dosis and before he could try a thing I made him melt into his own bones."  
Sam was suddenly aware of the distance that had at some point been closed between them, and somehow Ellis had moved from the door to be sitting on the edge of Sam's bed.  
"Crowley said that I was just like him, that he wanted to make sure I was capable and goddamn had I delivered." Now that he was siting near the light, he could finally see most of his face. The flaring of his nostrils, the light red that had colored his neck and the tears that made his eyes gleam. He looked furious, and yet completely helpless that to a creature with his power that just shouldn't be a thing.  
"You asked why I didn't kill you and your brother when I could, that's why." His eyes locked with Sam's, and he was suddenly nervous he could not look away. "I'm not Crowley, and I think that feeling so haunted by the murder of someone who put me through that kind of suffering is a sign that I may not be the kind of villain that Dean thinks I am."  
Sam nodded, watching the anger in the other's face slowly subdue.  
"I don't think you're a villain."

  
They were both breathing heavily, both taunted by their own troubles that had them up late at night.  
But being so close to him, it felt right. He felt tension escape his body, and he tried to figure out if Ellis felt the same way at all.  
Judging by the feeling of warm lips pressing against his, he'd say he did.  
Sam found himself surprised by the gentleness of the touch, to the point that it almost felt shy. He guessed that kissing a complete stranger was probably easier than kissing someone you'd have to share a car with for 6 hours the next day.  
His hand moved to rest on the crevice between Ellis' shoulder blades and his neck, guiding him down with what Sam would swear to his grave hadn't been his intention at all. His legs falling to rest on each side of Sam's body, letting out a quiet groan when Ellis pressed ther hips together.  
Sam looked up at Ellis, tapping his shoulder with pleading eyes and he was pleased to recieve a head nod as an answer.  
The next thing he knew he was being promptly undressed, butterfly kisses being laid on every inch of exposed flesh. He questioned the morality of their situation as a whole, if needing comfort was good enough of a reason to have sex with anybody. But they found comfort on each other, and it'd been so long since he'd even kissed anybody at all that any trace of doubt or judgement was soon left behind.

 

They'd awaken tangled on each other, Sam's chest pressing against Ellis'.  
He found that it was a thing he enjoyed waking up to, and was filled with gratefulness when Ellis woke up and neither seemed remorseful because of the events of last night.  
They showered, might or might not have joined each other at some point, and had soon dressed up to continue with their plan to find Ketch. Sam called Jodie and asked her to look for the man in the picture, Ellis prepared their stuff back into their bags because they had decided to go back later that day to check up on Dean. And soon, they were on their way out.  
"Breakfast at the cafe from last night?" Ellis inquired.  
"That sounds just fine." Sam answered, beaming. He opened the door, revealing someone standing right outside their doorstep.

The ginger leered at them both, a catlike smile spreading from cheek to cheek. "Quite hello, Samuel." She snarled, faking surprise. "Can you believe the coincidences in this small, small world we live in? To think I was staying in the room next door, and I happen to also be really looking out for breakfast."

 

 

 

 

  
 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> // Dean is defo gonna be Elsa telling his brother Sam (also known as Mr. Ana) Telling him that you can't marry (fuck) someone you just met. whoops.  
> BUT IN MY DEFENSE. Romances in spn are also kind of rushed (remember Dean and Lisa? cus yikes.) and it may not look like it but it serves a purpose I promise (And it's not to have Sam be betrayed and pull another Ruby moment, I swear.) ALSO YAY ROWENA, I'm actually really curious of how this will play out oh my go (Next chapter has not been written yet) 
> 
> AND TO FINISH UP i know i'm always apologizing because this fic isn't as Destielish as I and the first chapters promised but I feel like it wouldn't make sense to just throw them to each other right now. (brave coming from someone who made two characters who met 3 chapters ago fuck, yeez) But because I feel like Dean is the complicated brother, he has a lot of feelings regarding Cas and how he feels about having that kind of feelings for someone that isn't a pretty blonde gal, it wouldn't be the type of storyline I want if I rushed it up. Destiel will be real slow for a while but I promise some resolution at some point, and next chapter will be a lot more Dean centric because I feel like i've neglected him too long.


	10. A Witch, a Demon and A Hunter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> || I decided to add the Dean solo at the end bc it was too short on it's own. 
> 
> Also this chapter was written in a day bc I had finals all week so if it feels rushed i'm so sorry. I promise to do better next time ♡

A witch, a demon and a hunter walk into a bar.

  
Or Dennys', same thing.  
  
Somehow, Sam could not possibly recall what he was thinking despite it happening less than an hour ago, Rowena had convinced Sam of joining her for breakfast and Sam had somehow convinced a less than eager Ellis to go. Ellis had profoundly refused unless it was in an open, public place.

  
And that's how Sam Winchester managed to be in the middle of what was the worst joke he could probably imagine anyone cracking ever. He was eating waffles with the mother and the son of the previous king of hell, must be Thursday.  
  
"So you two had a fun night, huh?" Rowena had decided to break the awkward silence on the table by making an even more awkward statement that made blush rise from his neck and all the way to his cheeks, and if he was to die right there he would welcome it grateful over whatever type of conversation they were having. "How did you.."  
She cackled, a delighted smirk making Sam shrink on his seat even further. "Next time, wear concealer over the hickeys, Samuel. That and I was staying in the room beside yours, remember?"

  
Ellis snorted, trying to hide his own amusement by taking a long sip from the coffee mug the waitress had already refilled twice.

  
Sam tried to pull the neck of his shirt higher. "We didn't come to talk about.."  
"You think talking about my grandson's sexual life amuses me, Sam?" And dear God, was Sam about 4 shades darker pink than when the conversation started.  
  
Ellis' attention seemed to gravitate back to the conversation, head snapping towards Rowena expectedly. "How'd you know?"  
"Oh sweet child, I knew the moment you walked into that motel room. Hell, I knew the moment you entered the city." On one hand, Sam was glad Rowena's attention deribated from him. On the other, he watched Ellis' reaction carefully. "You stink of him, dear. Like a rainy day in Larkhall, whiskey and sulfur. Like every bit of you is rotten to it's very core."  
  
It could go extremely wrong, he thought. Because if any of them snapped at the other, chaos would break free.  
He was in the eye of the storm.  
  
But Ellis didn't seem half as bothered and that seemed to annoy Rowena. Sam then realised, they were playing with each other. It was a game of mights and control, to see who could go the furthest on the skin of the other, a mental game of the cat and the mouse.

  
"But he's dead, and I presume you already knew that." But who was the cat and who was the mouse, Sam was not entirely sure. "So you assumed he had a son."  
"I know more than you belive you do, you petulant child." Sam felt suddenly excluded, not that it was necessarily a bad thing, he figured. "How's mom?"  
Sam watched Ellis' expression grow heavier, darker. And the smile he bore was no longer from amusement, but almost as aggresive and threatening as were his eyes. "Dead."  
Rowena beamed, self-satisfied. "You are a treacherous cunt, just like your father."

After a long, dead minute of silence, Ellis leered, showing a full row of teeth in a sinister smirk. "The only thing I have in common with my father is neglectful parents, and one day i'm going to die like he did, alone. Now, don't tell me that doesn't hurt." He stretched over the table. Whispering to her face.  
His eyes shifted to a red-blood tint, veins that shimmered in a golden tint becoming increasingly brighter to the point of glowing, eye sockets darkening, sunken in a way where his face did no longer appear human and Sam was growing increasingly worried that anyone from the other tables would turn around and they'd have a real bad problem at hand. "Crowley had no soul, Rowena. What's your excuse?"  
  
And that's how they got kicked out of Denny's.  
  
Sam would try to give them both credit, no magic and/or supernatural abilities were used, which he was thankful for. But the verbal fight of yelling and cursing was enough to have the manager ask them out and threaten to call the police when Rowena threatened to cut his tongue, Sam was able of taking both of them to the exit before the manager could do anything, and besides a few people who took their phones out to record the event, they were alright.  
  
So Sam dragged them to the next best thing. A nearly empty bar that hosted mostly the clients from the night before who had fallen asleep, it was far from pleasant and it smelled like dead rats and piss, the unmistakeable smell of the kind of bar where no matter what kind of fight Rowena and Ellis could get into, they would definetely not be kicked off. "Alright, let's start off again. Why is Arthur Ketch looking for you?"

She rolled her eyes, sitting at the corner of the table with crossed arms. "What do I get from talking to you?"  
"You agreed to talking to us?"  
She smirked. "Never said it'd be for free."  
Sam looked at Ellis who sat on the stool across their table. He didn't seem much interested in joining anymore. He remembered a time where all he did was fight with John, and he remembered how little he wished to be near him every time it happened. Sam found that he didn't blame him.  
"What do you want, then?"  
"To be left alone." She looked away, fidgeting with a penny they had found at a table. "For you to get that nosy British scum out of my business, and your no good of a brother too if it's not inconvenient."  
Sam furrowed. "Why?"  
"Words out that Lucifer is doing nice and well." Her attention shifted back to Sam, but something seemed different from before, more honest. "After my last face off with him, I'm working on a protection spell. That's how he tracked me all the way here."

Sam swallowed with difficulty after hearing that name, an unpleasant feeling stirring on his stomach. He realised how much the mere mention of Lucifer made him dizzy, made his heart race and he felt himself tense uneasy. "You're scared of him."  
"And you're not?" There was a vulnerability in Rowena's voice that he associated with everyone but her. Something in the way her eyes watered made him wish to believe her. He nodded, a small sympathethic smile lingered on his lips and he was surpised to find her smiling back.  
  
"I sold him a resurrection seal." She cleared her throat, composing herself. "Ketch. The British Men of Letters captured me once, he let me go in exchange."  
He beamed. "Thank you."  
"Now, get out of my hair, Winchester." Rowena exclaimed, half annoyed but unable to contain a thankful grin.  
  


* * *

  
  
He sat with his back against the wall, head pounding. Hands curled into fists.  
He hadn't bothered on turning the light on, and in the dark he felt particularly vulnerable, chest heavy and for the first time since Cas died he allowed himself to cry a long supressed scream, briefly registering the hot tears falling down his cheeks.

He pictured something that crawled out of his mouth, opening it's way out. Everything he had curled up on his chest, all the pressure hammering against his ribcage finally released in about 3 minutes of screaming and tearing, fists tightened into a ball so hard that his knuckles went white and he could no longer feel his thumb. Shacking.  
  
He didn't know what to think, what to do. And he found he was too exhausted to move, and he fell asleep with his head nested between his knees and hands.  
  
Dean woke up next morning to the empty bunker, eyes puffy and irritated from last night's crying and his throat was sore.  
He called Sam and slammed his phone against the bed when there was no answer.  
He was momentarily numb from what he'd been crying about, his brain barely adjusting to being awake.

His direct thought was to go to the kitchen and grab a pop tart for breakfast before his interest was taken by the brand new stocked beers in the fridge. 9 AM was a totally healthy hour to drink, right?  
  
After a nutritious breakfast he decided to take a cold shower, and he cried for a second time with the security that no one was in the bunker to hear him.  
Once he was done, he dried up on the mirror. He looked at himself for a minute, examining the scratches from the night Cas was taken and the redness on the whites of his eyes due crying.

He wondered if Cas was hurt, if he was even alive. He found himself slamming his fist against the mirror, shattering it to pieces that cut through his knuckles and opened new wounds on his hand.  
  
It didn't matter how many times he told himself to stop, his mind always wandered to Cas.  
He loved him, Dean realised. He loved him in the way that hurt, in the way that made him want to scream and tear his insides out. He loved him and it was confusing, torturous and absolutely terrifying.  
  
He laid in silence, looking at the ceiling above him. He didn't want to cry anymore, he was exhausted from everything.  
Before he realised, he fell asleep again.  
  
He was awaken God knows how long after by a knock on his door and Sam's voice. He rushed to check on the mirror by his side to see if the redness had subdued, and reluctantly opened the door.  
"You were gone a long time." He said.  
Something in Sam's voice made him uneasy. "Yeah, about that? There's something I need to show you."


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ITS. BEEN. SO. LONG.

Dean pounded on his cheek. repeatedly. 

But in his, quite precaurious, position; Ketch could only recieve each impact, not yet startled enough to drop the ice cold serenity in his expression. Which of course, only fueled to Dean's annoyance. 

Once Dean stopped, Ketch spat the saliva and blood he was holding in and a teeth to the side. "Are we quite done here?"  
"You tried to kill my mom, to kill my brother,-" He laid another blow right under his eye, side to the cheekbone. "I decide when we're done here."  
He reached to the metal stand near, cleaning his knuckles with a white cloth that damped red. Dean stopped to look at Sam, who stared at him with full blown pupils that made his heart sink on guilt and embarassment. "Where did you find him?"  
"I-" Sam scrambled with his words, stuttering.  
"Sam got a phone call about a werewolf attack. He wanted to go on his own, I adviced him otherwise." Ellis waited to see any response—verbal or physical from Dean that could be a warning to stop talking. Once he was given free way, he continued. "We got rid of the werewolf, and we were on our way when we noticed him following us."  
Ellis threw a threatening look Ketch's way, thankfully Dean didn't seem to notice.  
"This-" Dean seemed comflicted, the punishing glare he looked ready to put on Ellis seemed to fade. "This doesn't change anything."

The next few hours were spent by the world map table.  
Dean was reading a —Not quite PG-13— magazine despite Sam having told him endlessly to not do it in public, sipping a cold beer straight out of the crystal bottle. Both feet resting on the edge of the table. On the other side of the table was Sam skimming on his computer, and Ellis close by scribbling something down on a stripped notebook. 

Dean slammed the magazine down. "I really don't feel comfortable having him around without the handcuffs."  
His attention was drawn back from the notebook to Dean who looked at him from across the room with eyes that could kill. He beamed cheekily."I can put them on if it makes you feel better, i'll bring them here myself." Before the last syllables were out of his mouth, the handcuffs materialized at the center of the table.  
"Alright Loki, i'm fed up with the tricks." Dean barked. "Quit the bullshit."  
He smirked from ear to ear, staring at Dean playfully despite his heated voice. "What are you gonna do then, Dean? You're going to kill me?" He chuckled. "Because you are very welcomed to try but I can't promise to play nicely."  
Sam opened his mouth to speak but was quickly interrumpted by Dean, who in the head of the moment stood up and accidentally knocked the bottle to the floor. "Oh two can play that game motherf-" 

"Guys!" Sam shouted over both of their voices, making the stirring conflict stop. "Please. I found something."  
"No offense Sam, but last time you found us a case I died and we uncovered a secret demon cult." Dean growled. "And we should be focusing on Asmodeous to find Cas and so rip-off Sinatra can go back to the crack cocaine in L.A hole he crawled out of."  
Regardless his initial restrain, he had retaken his seat on the table and, thankfully, was back to ignoring Ellis apart from one last hateful glare. 

"No, this-" Sam tittered. "This is in our department."

He shifted the computer screen in a way it faced Dean."Casey Boyle, 26." It showed a young woman next to an older, presumably her mother, holding each other in loving embrace "She was found in her Topeka department after her mother Melissa Boyle stabbed her to dead,"; And the picture next, a screencapture of a security camera showing the same two figures, a blade going through the younger's stomach and her mother holding the knife. "both the murder weapon and Melissa were gone."  
"So?" Dean shrugged it off. "Sounds like more actual FBI case than our thing, don't you think?"  
Sam frowned. "Melissa Boyle died a month ago, her grave was empty after Casey was found."

Before Sam knew it, they were on their way to Topeka. 

"So what are we thinking, huh?" Dean was looking better, and Sam was hopeful that this might ease the issue with Castiel. "Zombies again?" Maybe fresh air and something to ocuppy his mind was all he needed.  
"Maybe." He chugged from the water bottle he bought at the gas station, a smile lingering on the corner of his lips.  
"By the way." Dean frowned, looking at Ellis who stared at the window in the backseat. "This does not mean-"  
"That you like me, you still hate me. Thanks for the fresh input you totally hadn't made clear before." He smirked dangerously, allowing the red shade on his eyes linger to show off.  
"It bothers me enough to leave Bond's villain in the bunker by his own, let alone leave you with him." He scoffed.  
He nodded. "Understood, chief."

They made it to Topeka around midnight.  
It was already too late to go to the coroner's office anyway, and everyone was exhausted enough from the trip alone. Thus, after an uncomfortable agreement where Sam agreed to share a room with Ellis, they had decided to stay at a small low-rated hotel that was close enough to the coroner's office that they wouldn't even have to use the Impala to cross the street. 

Sam waited until he heard Dean enter his room to close his own door, sighing. He stretched his arms over his head, satisfied until he heard a cracking sound on his back.  
"Ouch." He heard Ellis say from across the room, chuckling. He walked towards him, sitting at the edge of the bed.  
Ellis threw his arms around his neck in an awkwardly difficult angle because of their height difference, but he didn't seem to mind and neither did he. "Dean hates me." Sam chuckled. "Well, you don't make it very easy on him." To his surprise, Ellis chuckled back. "True. But in my defense, he hated me first."  
Sam closed his eyes briefly, feeling a gentle kiss planted on his lips. "I also feel like /this/ may be part of why he hates me." He shrugged. "Which to me seems weird because I was kind of under the impression that he and the angel had a thing going but you know man, one never knows I guess."  
Sam cackled, silencing himself only when he remembered that Dean was next door. "No, I mean, him and Cas..Not the point. What i'm trying to say is that it doesn't bother him because of what you think. He just worries."

Ellis moved away shortly, taking a seat at the edge of the bed next to Sam, frowning. "About?" Sam wanted to lie. He'd made the conscious choice that he'd find an excuse to make, simply because they were far too early into—whatever they had going—to talk about exes, golden rule. However, maybe in this case, it was probably better to be honest. 

He cleared his throat. "Alright." Sam watched Ellis lean down, propping himself up on his elbows and giving him encouraging thumb up. "I'm all ears."  
"There was someone, her name was Ruby." He begun talking before even processing what he was saying. Which probably, considering how they had gotten close in the first place, was probably the best way.  
"She was a demon?" Sam nodded reluctant.  
He sighed. "She coarsed me into doing things that, without her...manipulation, I wouldn't have done otherwise." To this point, he was avoiding Ellis' eyes. Maybe a second thought on the back of his head was afraid of judgement, or maybe he was afraid that Ellis would think Sam thought he'd do what she did merely for being a demon himself.  
"She used you to open Lucifer's cage." He turned at Ellis, surprised. But Ellis looked at him with pity and even sadness, the way you'd look at a harmed small animal or a starving child. It felt patronizing in a way, but he tried not to overthink it.  
He frowned. "How did you know that?"  
"I had people in Crowley's inner circle, back when he was king. They reported back to me anything relevant going around on that realm, when the cage opened I was told about it, that's sort of how I came to know about you and your brother."

Sam nodded, and they stayed quiet for what felt like hours until he felt Ellis touch his shoulder. "I'm not going to pull a Ruby on you, if that's what worries Dean."  
He looked at Ellis, eyebrows furrowed. "I don't think you will".  
Ellis planted another kiss on his lips, smiling lovingly against the kiss. "Good." He could feel his breath ghost on his face, and he figured that maybe he'd been single for far too long that, little things like this, made him feel giddy.  
"And for the record, if I ever do anything you don't like, if I overstep any boundary and you don't want to see me ever again." He chuckled, trying to lighten up the mood. "I will do my best to get off your face."  
They stayed like that for a moment, pressed against each other.  
"You should probably get to sleep, though." laying another kiss on Sam's lips, he stood up. "Hunter stuff and whatever tomorrow, remember?"  
Sam chuckled. "Yeah, I probably should."

After breakfast at a Diner downstreet, and by non they were walking through their way to the coroner's office.  
The place was buzzling with forensic pathologists, doctors and a few local officers. They prepared their usual scheme, fake badges ready to greet the woman at the door with charming smiles and hopefully enough confidence to sell the lie. 

"Good morning darling." Dean beamed, confident that his flirting act alone would be enough to persuade the young woman to let them in. "It's agent Eheart, FBI." He was disappointed to see her completely unafected, he blushed, embarassed as much as he was confused. "These are my partner agent Young and agent Simmons."  
She frowned, utterly confused. "Why would they send 4 agents this time?" 

Now, now was Dean's turn to be completely confused and thrown off guard. "4 agents?"  
He heard an overly enthusiastic voice from the distance. "Michael Eheart? No way!"  
Ellis perked up on the toes of his shoes to whisper at Sam. "We know her?"  
"No." Sam replied, just as confused.  
The girl threw her arms around Dean dramatically. "I haven't seen you in what, 10 years?"  
It took him a long time until he finally got the girl's deal who, for some reason, was trying to get them in. He suspected she was not real FBI either.  
Regardless, they were too deep in for him not to play along.  
"Kate? You look different." He cackled. "Don't tell me, you lost weight."  
She, whoever she was, smiled and yet somehow managed to let her message out with a cold glare. She didn't like them, and Dean was growing suspiscious on whoever she was and why she'd try to help them in anyways. 

"Who are.." The security woman tapped on /Kate's/ shoulder, absolutely baffled.  
The girl, who they still had no absolutely idea who she was, threw the same flirtatious smirk at the other woman that Dean had tried to woo earlier. It was finally coming to him why he'd failed in the first place.  
"They're my friends, Jane." She beamed, still holding Dean's arm with faux affection. "I met Michael at the academia, he's the best profiler I know of. Trust me, he's cool." 

The security woman nodded reluctantly. "Alright...just, be quick?"  
"They'll be gone before you notice." She grinned from ear to ear. Sticking her hand to her pocket, she slipped a card with her number to the other woman. "And once they're going, we're going out for lunch. Right?"  
The other woman flushed, getting out of the way to the door. "Deal."

Hours later, they sat for dinner at a place close to their hotel.

"So, are we gonna talk about the chick or nah?" Dean frowned, taking a long gulp of beer to down the sandwhich he was half through eating.  
Sam furrowed. "You think she's suspiscious?"  
"Yeah Sam, what made me think that?" He scowled. "Was it the fact that she looks like she could very easily be an UFC fighter or that she blantly lied on our face about being FBI and, apparently, my best friend. What could possibly make me think she's suspiscious?"  
Sam nodded, thoughtful. "Maybe she's just another hunter?"  
"Hmm, could be." He finished his beer in a quick gulp. He slipped his hand inisde his pocket to get his wallet. "Hey Sam?"  
"Yeah?"  
Dean frowned. "I think I left my badge at the coroner's office this morning."  
"We could go get it on the way back."  
He shook his head. "No, you two go back to the hotel and I'll take a taxi to get it back." His glare shifted back to Ellis who was halfway drinking a cup of plain, black coffee. "I'm not paying for you, by the way."  
Ellis smirked, shifting his palm down, making a rain of coins fall onto the table. "Net worth, I could pay for the whole restaurant if I wanted to."  
Dean growled, rolling his eyes. "Whatever, show off." He stood up.  
"I'll see you at the hotel." And like that, he was gone.

It was around 11 when he made it back to the coroner's office, he was surprised to find that he was still allowed in.  
He walked warily around halls that, as the corpes' inside, felt completely lifeless. It was silly, after years of hunting demons and cryptids that empty halls still got the creeps out of him. He was too deep on his own thoughts to really process the slight noise and rumbling behind the closed door.

Dean was walking around the dark room, looking blindly for the light switch when he felt the cold steel of a blade pressing against his neck, right under his jugular.  
"Damn, I hate being right." He whispered, stilling his movements in hope to persuade his agressor from pressing the blade closer. "Hi Kate."  
"Sorry Michael." Her voice was cold, calculative and collected like much of a soldier. "I was gonna let you guys leave, but I can't let you risk this."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ending in a little cliffhanger because I don't like making 3k or more chapters, but also next one will most likely end in another cliffhanger and I just want to say to not only Sam but to anyone reading. I'm sorry


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a very busy summer, so updates were a little short, hopefully now I can fully focus on updating the fic and posting.

"Alright then." He stretched his neck to meet with her eyes behind his back, smirking nonchalantly. "Kill me." 

From this close, many details of her face that he had previously ignored were somehow the only logical thought he could entertain.  
He tried to map out the things could see, tried to disect exactly who he was fighting against. She had a scar than ran from her right eyebrow to the corner of her lips, and unlike your regular woman in her 30s, her face and neck were all covered in tiny marks and scratches.   
The thought of her being an angel didn't seem logical, and he had yet to see black eyes so demon was out of question as well. 

And she didn't hesitate. He could faintly hear the sound of steel sliding against his flesh, feel the unmistakable sting of sharpness threading against his skin.  
"Wait." She had barely moved at all, but even then there was already small droplets of blood coming in contact with the dagger. He was surprised she waited at all. "What?"   
"3 questions." He dug his teeth on the inside of his cheek to the point of drawing blood. "I can't tell anybody when i'm dead, so why would you refuse?"   
"You think that playing 20 questions is going to save your life?" Her fingers dug on his wrist, twisting it against his back until he yelped. "You take me for a fool?"  
"No." He gulped. "But i'm not about to get killed by someone with no name. So, shall we?"   
"Alright." The pressure of the dagger against his neck subsided, but it stayed close by as a reminder. "I get to ask as well." She was in control, and he'd be dead by now if she wanted.   
Dean shrugged.   
"Alright." She mumbled. "Go ahead."   
He didn't expect to get this far, so, putting all his questions into 3 wasn't something he had considered until now. "Who are you? Why did you help us through?, earlier I mean."   
"Name's Sigrid." Dean couldn't brush off the feeling that, she, Sigrid, was intentionally trying to dodge the question. Or at least what he had intended with the question, she was very well aware of what he had asked and it certainly hadn't been her name. "I was already raising questions by myself, I didn't need you 3 blowing my cover. It was easier to help you out than convicing them that i'm not a faux FBI either. Had I not, we'd 4 be in jail."   
"Okay." Dean nodded. "Your turn."   
"How'd you figure that the Casey Boyle thing was sketchy?"   
"Her dead mother came back from the dead to kill her in cold blood, what part of that isn't sketchy?" He chuckled despite himself, however, she wasn't amused. "My brother and I, the tall guy, we scavenge for these things. It's kind of what we do." Then, he decided it was time for his last question. "How did you do it?"   
Sigrid frowned, and Dean had the horrible feeling that she was truly confused. "How did I do what?"   
"Brought her mother back, got her to kill Casey Boyle."   
Something about the statement didn't seem to sit well with Sigrid. "I didn't do it." She drew the dagger closer to his neck, the grip on his wrists tightening like she'd suddenly remembered why she was doing what she was doing in the first place.   
There was definetely something he was missing. "Then who did?" Something she wasn't telling him, something that felt awfully like it was right under his nose and yet he could not see it through.   
"It's none of your business." He could see her reflection against the window, and when he saw her he saw despair. There was definetely something he was missing, and he got the feeling that maybe she was staying shut about it rather from not telling him to not talking about it at all. "Shouldn't I get a saying on that?" 

She stayed silent for a moment. Something lingered on the air, uncertainty. 

"Second question." She continued. The grip on the dagger relaxed on the slightest again, and he felt like he had probably more chances of walking out here alive than he initially thought.   
"Shoot." He said.   
"The thing. The one with you and your brother, what is it?" Something about the way she said it, about the way she choose her words and the long pauses between them. It made him feel uneasy. He wondered if he wasn't the only one who got a weird vibe from him, and maybe all of his suspiscions hadn't been just paranoia all along.   
"He's a demon. Why'd you ask?" But he knew deep down that the answer wasn't as accurate as he'd wished.   
"He's not a demon." Whatever she was trying to say, she sounded scared, like merely talking about him could be detrimental. Her voice was barely a whisper. "I've seen demons. Whatever he is, it's twisted, it's something i've never seen before." 

He was about to say something when as on cue, the sound of something crashing against the metal table beside them distracts them from the conversation. Dean barely registers her pulling him aside, pushing him against the corner and the next thing he sees is a battled Sigrid wrestling with, what he supposed, was the late Casey Boyle. He grabs the gun from the side of his belt and does the first thing his insticts signaled, shoot. 

And it proved absolutely obsolete. He watched the bullets he'd fired against Casey crumbling to pieces against the floor, Casey was completely unharmed. 

"Don't you think it's a little bit of my business now!?" Regardless, he kept firing away, because he didn't understand and what he didn't understand he was scared of.  
"Grab the dagger!" Dean scanned the room to find the dagger that had been previously pressed against his neck, only to find it had flown across the room when Sigrid tried to push him away. "Why does it have to be that /one/ dagger?!"   
"You ask way too many question's ya' know that?" The monster that had Casey turned in twisted under Sigrid's grip and it only dawned to Dean then that, whatever that thing was, wasn't trying to get them. It was trying to get the dagger. 

So he tried to crawl his way around the room in hopes to avoid the monster, until his hand finally grapped around the handle of the dagger. And he dug it deep into Casey's scalp. Watching her crumble into dust right before his eyes. 

A long moment of silence followed. He guessed that, just as he, she had little to no clue of what to say. It was only their heavy breathing for a moment until he decided to let everything he was thinking out. "What the fuck." He growled. "What the actual fuck."   
Sigrid sighed. dropping on her knees to lay with her back agaisnt the concrete wall. "Man, not even I know."   
"You said it was none of my business, huh? How about now? Because I think I deserve an explanation."   
"I have it under control. Okay? This is the first one you found out about, I've been dealing with them since last year. I can deal with it."   
Dean nodded. "Okay. If you say so I guess."   
"You should probably take it." She said.   
"Take the what?"   
"The dagger." She looked at him from underneath, tired eyes gleaming with too many emotions at once. She had eyes of a soldier, eyes of someone who had seen too much and was too tired to pretend not to be. "If you encounter one, just use the blade. They can't be killed with other kind of weapon."   
Without much clue of what to do next, he nodded again. "Cool." Carefully, he cleaned the blade against his shirt and hid it on the pocket at the back of his pants. "So, if you don't want to kill me anymore, I'll be on my merry way."   
Sigrid beamed. "Alright. I hope to never see you again."  
"Yeah, me too." 

He should probably stop meeting people like that. 

There was a lot he was thinking about on his way back to the hotel. He had thought that their improvised 20 questions game would clear up /anything/, but it had just put him in a darker place and given him a lot more questions.   
For starters, who was Sam hanging out in the hotel with? Was he even Crowley's son at all? He would take her word for it, he wasn't a demon, and whatever he was Dean wasn't sure he had seen before. Was it safe to question him about it? Should he make a move when they didn't know who they were off against to begin with?  
And then there was Sigrid, the bulletproof zombies and the magic knife and somehow even with what he had seen he could not tie it up to make out what had just happened. 

Before he'd realized he was walking back through the hotel doors. And he decided that whatever it was, it could wait for him to take a long deserved sleep before they had to be back on the road. 

Dean collapsed on his bed, not even bothering to undo his tie. He could barely make out the sound of muffled talking next door.   
He grabbed his phone from his pocket, laid the dagger he had been given on the bedside table. He decided to text Sam. 

I'm back. Everything ok?- 11:48 PM 

He waited anxiously for a text back, maybe a little too long. It annoyed him, but wouldn't comment on it. 

Great! What took you so long? 12:00

I'll tell you in the morning, ok? Take care, if you need anything text. 12:03 

He left the phone on the bedside table, next to the dagger.   
Dean didn't get much sleep that night. 

The diner was roaring with life and the smell of bacon and eggs.  
It would most of his problems melt away, put Dean at ease at least for a little while. Or so it used to do, because even then surrounded by people and with a plate of eggs in front of him he couldn't bring himself to stop staring at Ellis who, regardless of being impossible for him to know, seemed just as tense as Dean. Sam, however, looked completely oblivious.   
"You said that you wanted to tell us something, what happened?"   
Dean cleared his throat, peeling his eyes away from Ellis hoping that Sam wouldn't notice. "Yeah, I-" So did him, for once they would both ignore each other for their own best interest. "The case, it's solved, we should probably go home."  
Sam frowned. "What? You should have said something, we could have helped-"   
Dean did his best to pull the most sincere looking-reasuring smile on the book. "No need." He felt bad for lying to Sam, but telling him the truth wouldn't be much helpful and— he wanted alone time to find out for once whatever the hell was siting next to his brother. "Just a witch, vodoo and some other crap. I got the witch, she won't be much trouble anymore."   
The smile seemed to do it. "Alright. I'm glad you're okay." And probably how fast Sam bought it was part of the guilt, however, Ellis didn't seem as convinced. 

Back on the road was easier to keep his mind busy. He tried his best to ignore the uncomfortable stares he got from the backseat, the last thing he wanted right now was to break into another argument, fearful of what it might escalate to. Dean briefly wondered if Sam had any suspiscions because of how smooth things were going, but Sam was always blissful as long as Dean was.   
He would tell him the truth eventually. When they had Cas back and when Ellis was no longer a problem, he would tell Sam about what happened.   
"Dean." He shifted so to look at Sam from the corner of his eye. He signaled the dashboard going red, they were almost out of fuel.   
"No worries. I saw a sign for a gas station a few kilometers from here, it's cool." 

The last thing he wanted was having to stop for gas. But things were not working out for him as of lately anyways, so expecting any better would've been foolish.   
The silver lining was that Sam had decided to use the gas station bathroom, and without Sam around he didn't feel like he needed to pretend anything. Wasn't as stressed that his expressions would blow his cover.   
Dean decided that the last thing he needed was to stay inside the car with the source of his trouble, and stretching his legs would be good for him. 

His attention drifted by an old couple inside the car next to theirs, he realised the couple was staring at him. Something in the displeased look on their faces and the pale tint of their skin made him flinch.   
The old man walked out the car. On his direction. Because of all things that could go wrong, somehow lately, they always went wrong for him.   
"Dammit." Dean whispered under his breath. "Sir? Everything alright, sir?"   
The older man didn't answer, nor did he stop. He took a peak from his shoulder and saw the clerk, among other 3 workers, exiting the gas station with the same lifeless look on their face. And all at once, the 6 undead rushed on his direction. He was screwed. 

"Fuck." He backed away just to find himself against the gas dispensers. He tried to recall the fight the other night, what Sigrid had done and how he could hopefully try to Deal with 6 at the same time. The dagger.  
Wich, he had foolishly left inside the Impala. His eyes darted to the car, only to find the backseat empty. "Dammit!" He looked back to the gas station doors, no sign of Sam yet. The clerk rushed to him with a dagger, surprisingly alike the one he had despite the rusty look of his'. He tried to disarm him while trying to block the attacks of the other 5. "Fuck!"   
The 6 of his attackers exploded into bloody pieces right before his eyes.   
Behind them, Ellis stood by. Despite having saved his life, looking like he wanted to kill Dean himself. "This is what you call fixed?" Ellis barked. "You lied to Sam."   
Dean wanted to protest despite him being right. "I'm not the only one lying to Sam. I did it to help him, what is your excuse?"   
He darted forward, his hand clasping around Dean's throat. His eyes burned a yellow glow, and Dean wondered how long he'd wanted to do that for. "I never lied to him."  
"What are you hiding then?" Dean growled, trying to seem unbothered despite feeling the lack of air getting to him.   
He didn't answer. Instead, he released the pressure from Dean's throat and next blink he was back inside the Impala like he'd never left. And the blood and organs scattered around the floor were gone. 

The rest of the drive back to the bunker was quiet. Dean was too busy trying to figure out what to do next, how he'd even bring it up to Sam anyway. Sam could probably tell something was off, and had decided to stay quiet through it.   
Ellis, well, who knows. Dean didn't want to know.   
Finally back inside the bunker, his mind was back to another issue. Ketch   
He would go check on him, being gone for that long and leaving him on the bunker alone did just not sit right with him. He had the feeling on the pit of his stomach that something was off.  
He stormed his way across the halls to the interrogation room with Sam and Ellis lingering behind him. 

He had been right.   
The door was wide open, the chair where Ketch should've been was completely empty and all his restrains were on the floor.   
"He has to leave, Sam." It was the final confirmation he needed, the drop that would spill the glass. — "How do you know he was behind it!? He was with me all day, Dean, you're being irrational."  
"What else do you need to know he's bad news, Sam?" He glared at Ellis, all of his anger and frustration infused into his eyes. "For him to kill me? Kill you? Is that what is gonna take?" — "He's right, Sam." Ellis answered, nonchalant. "Not about Ketch, but I do need to leave." His eyes never left Dean's, somehow managing to show him so much anger and disgust while remaining serene. He turned back to Sam, smirking. "I'll see you around, Sam."   
Just like that, he was gone. 

The Los Angeles sun filtered through the floor to ceiling windows, illuminating the room buzzling with people having mundane conversations of the type only the rich and powerful could. Money, bussiness, you name it.   
It was the appropiate cafe for a bussiness meeting, though he wasn't sure it was meant for the kind of bussiness they were here to attend.   
"Mr. Ketch." The man on a black suit leered in the way of charm and danger, alluring and still, sure death. "It's my deep pleasure to finally meet you, formally of course." — "I don't suppose this is just a casual meeting." He smiled politely, like a smile from someone who'd learned to smile in an instructive book, with no ounce of genuine feeling behind it. "There's no need for small talk."  
Ellis cackled with laughter, amused. "I love that." He smirks. "I love people who mean bussiness, I can already tell we're off to a good start." Once he compossed himself. He leaned back, downing the black coffee on the table in one gulp. It was still steaming, but he didn't seem to mind. "I'm told you're a mercenary, huh? What would you exactly do for cash, Arthur?"   
"I don't need an employee, at the moment."   
"Let me rephrase that." Something in his amused expression changes, the mask was cracking and he could almost see the truth of whoever he was siting with, but he regained the serenity and looked at him with one big smile. Which, somehow, only made it worse. "I own you. Your life, your death, your soul- all of it, I own it. You run errands for me, and I don't snap your neck. What do you say? sounds good?" 

He tried to stand up but found himself unable to, and yet nobody around them seemed aware of his situation. He followed his last option, smile and agree.   
"Good, it's always nice to do business." He beamed. "Shall we discuss terms and conditions?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know the whole thing seems really sketchy but he's my 0C and i love him please don't yell at my son, And I don't like Ketch anyway so that's fine 
> 
>  
> 
> also kind of spoilers but castiel is gonna be back real soon.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you know that a trip on car from Kansas to California is roughly 1200 miles and 24 hours? me neither, America is big af. ALSO i have no clue to why but ao3 is playing games on me and is completely messing up my text, if it looks weird or you feel like there's bits missing i swear it's not my fault i've been trying to fix it for a minute straight SORRY

Sam quietly shut the door behind him, hopeful to make the least noise possible. But once he heard the huff behind him, he realized it wasn't necessary. "Really, Dean? Don't you think this is a bit much?" Even with his back turned he could feel the lashing disappointment in Dean's stare. Hated how his stomach coiled in shame despite himself and all of his best judgement trying to convince him that he'd done no wrong. "I don't know Sam, you tell me."  
He sighed. "What do you even think happens that makes you think it's bad?"  
Dean looked like he wanted to say something. But whatever it was, he seemed to differ and kept it to himself. Dean's phone began ringing anyway and Sam was glad the conversation seemed to be over. "Whatever. Next time at least try to get the sulfur stench out of your clothes if you want to be discreet, don't let other hunters smell you or you're getting your ass bathed in holy water." 

He turned on his heels, dismissing Sam. "Dean. Hello?" He couldn't quite makeout the voice on the phone but, judging by Dean's face sudden drop, it couldn't be good. "Yes, I'll put you on speaker."  
"Hi Samuel." He froze. "Very sorry for the trouble, but, does my grandson happen to be around?" His eyes darted to Dean who looked, if anything, absolutely confused. "No, not at the moment." Dean cut in. "Not to be...mean, but we thought you were..-"  
"Oh." He could almost hear her smirk on the other side of the line. "Did Sam not give you the news?" He knew he wouldn't be able of keeping it in for long, he just knew. But he would've preffered to tell Dean himself, and obviously maybe when Dean wasn't already questioning his judgement at all.  
Dean was looking at him, he was aware. But he preffered to skip it, eyes on his feet. "No, he didn't."  
"Oh well." There was a loud, thunderous sound in the background followed by terrified screechs and pained howls. "Then if that's it I will try to get a hold of him myself."  
Dean tried to protest, but before he could really say anything she was gone.  
Sam stayed quiet despite the urge to, somehow, excuse himself. But he knew it would make it worse, so he didn't. Dean bore into him, eyes blazing. "I'll trace the call, get the Impala ready." 

They'd been on the car all day apart from a few gas stops, it was probably one of the few times Dean had completely avoided talking to him. He couldn't brush off the guilt and need to apologise, but every time he tried Dean would only turn up the volume on the car radio. So around midnight, when they were a couple hours away from their destination, he stopped trying.  
"So, Sam." It was the first words they'd shared in the 18 hour roadtrip, and although he knew they'd probably be as friendly as he'd been back at the bunker, he was sort of glad. "What other things involving him I don't know, huh? I mean, it's pretty clear you're not telling me much, so you might as well lay it all on me before someone else does."  
"It's all, okay?" He huffed. "And I didn't tell you about Rowena because she asked me to, not because of him. I don't think he's got anything to do with this, he hates her." Dean chuckled. "We'll see how that one turned out for you." There was another long uncomfortable silence before he added. "How'd you figure? Because he told you so? Maybe he's lying about that one too, I wouldn't count on him to be honest."  
The rest of the way was just like the last 18 hours, quiet. 

They hadn't even checked in on a motel before they were in the crime scene, around 3 AM and they'd sneaked into the place where the event had taken place.  
"The victim was Mike Einsel, film producer, pulls all the strings around the industry." Dean circled the burnt shape on the floor while Sam hanged back skimming the article of the murder on his phone. "And a known sexual predator too. He's 7 out of other 6 victims that were killed in high class events all around L.A. just this week."  
"Who was the second shape on the floor?" Dean murmurs.  
"There wasn't one, Mike Einsel was the only murder victim." He furrowed. "Unless.."  
"She's killing the reapers too." Dean kneeled on the floor, touching the ash left by the second victim on the floor. "So we find her in the next rich people fest, in L.A? That one's hard. L.A. /is/ a rich people fest."  
"Not necessarily, there's an after party tomorrow for an award ceremony. Hottest event of the week." Dean glared up at him with what could only be either amasement or confusion. "Ellis told me about it."  
"So golden boy is gonna be there too." He chuckled. "Good, we kill two birds in one stone, literally." He stood up in a jolt. "That setles it then, we go to the motel and at this time tomorrow we try to sneak into yet another party, I might go and get used to expensive alcohol then." 

Next night they were lying their way into a party on a rooftop, he'd charmed his way with enough people in the past to somehow make it work but he was sure one day he'd throw himself and Sam to prison.  
Today wasn't the day, though. And for that he accepted the champagne flute that the waitress put his way.  
"Okay." Sam started. "We should probably split to cover more territory, text each other in case we find something." He ignored the tiny voice in the back of his head that said that he probably was just trying to find Ellis, and he agreed reluctantly and watched Sam disappear in the crowd. 

He decided to mingle and keep his eyes peeled to the center of the dance floor, watching the pampered faces in luxurious dresses and tuxedos moving around the scene. He was sipping on the last bits of champagne when he saw her from whitin the glass. It took her little to realize she'd been seen and was promptly trying to lose into the crowd. "Wait!"  
Dean sprinted across the dance floor and gripped her arm tight before she could disappear again. "What the hell? Why are you following me?"  
Her eyes darted at him, wide in surprise that was quickly replaced with fury. "How'd you know?"  
"The scar? And the Michele Oboro arms perhaps?" She frowned, her hand fleeing to hold his wrist in an attempt to push him away. "You're following me, you have been since Topeka."  
"I'm researching." Sigrid huffed.  
"Fancy word for stalking." She squared up, eyes locked with his. "I let you go once without explanation, hell, i'm lying to my brother because you managed to convince me you had the zombie situation handled. Well I have news for you, crossfit barbie, you have shit under control, those things are swarming around and I got attacked by 6 more when leaving Topeka."  
"I'm working on it!" And on cue his phone buzzes. Despite her, Dean answered. "What?"  
"She's getting away, come to the fire exit." He turned to face Sigrid just to find her gone. "Dammit." 

Dean rushed his way across the party, knocking the occasional party goer that threatened to sue him as he sprinted away. He found Sam running down the exit stares with an evasive Rowena keeping the lead.  
"Dammit!" They'd taken the last steps to now running through the alley, trying to duck every trashcan that she'd elevate and throw their way every once in a while to stop them.  
She ducked into the backdoor of a building, and with a gesture of her hands 3 men joined them in the alley. Their eyes tearing blood, foam covering their lips and animalistic howls leaving their lips.  
They both fired a couple of shoots against the men, which only seemed to anger them a lot more. "Sam.." The victims of the spell were only inches away from them until they stopped on their tracks, seemingly unable to pass through an invisible barrier.  
"Next time you're in town maybe text me, won't ya Sam." They both turned to see Ellis leaning nonchalantly against a trashcan, a playful smirk lingering on his lips. "L.A., can be a bitch if you don't know your way around."  
"What's the use of helping us if you're helping her?" Dean barked.  
"I'm as confused as you two are." With a snap of his fingers, the 3 men fell unconscious to the ground. "I feel the need to specify. They're not dead, they'll wake up once the spell wears off."  
"Okay." Sam murmured. His coy smile only fatigued by Dean's judgmental side-eye.  
"She's in room 120. Let's pay her a visit and ask ourselves what in the 7 hells she's up to." 

Not Dean, not Sam, not Ellis said anything in the 2 minute elevator ride. The 3 just stood awkwardly still until, finally, the doors opened to reveal a thankfully empty hall. A spark of electrecity knocked the lights out, bulbs exploading and scattering glass across the carpet floor. In the darkness, the purple light coming from underneath the door at room 120 signaled their way.  
"Alright. I'll kick the door open, Sam you stand behind and I-" But before Dean could even finish his sentence, Ellis snapped his fingers again and the door stormed open. "..or he can do that."  
Rowena was on her knees, hands up trying to keep firing a ray of purple on Billie who seemed anything but affected. Tears falling on Rowena's pale cheeks, and suddenly the feeling of adrenaline that would always pump through his veins during a hunt was gone. He lowered his gun slowly.  
"The half-breed." Billie beamed, an uncomfortable smile that felt as fake and non genuine as did the affection on her voice. "I've heard a lot of talk about you, back in my reaper days. You've been avoiding death every single day of your life, haven't you?"  
Ellis bit the corner of his lip like he wanted to say something, he stayed quiet regardless.  
"Some things are not meant to be, and when your time runs out i'll be there, see you around Ellis." And with that, Billie was gone. Rowena dropped her arms back to her side, letting out a loud, heart wrecking sob. Both Dean and Sam lingered behind, while Ellis approached her with surprising care.  
"What were you trying to do?" He whispered, leaning slowly onto his knees by her side.  
"It's not fair." Her voice was far from the usual playful, bubbly and teasing tone. She sounded as broken and lost as she looked, almost child-like. "He was a bastard. A heartless, empty son of a bitch. And the one good thing he does kills him."  
She never used a name, but he understood. "You thought that by killing the reapers Death would have to listen to you."  
"But she didn't."  
"I'm a vile, sad little creature." She mumbled, dizzy from the glass of wine that she toyed in her hands. Dean added. "I think everyone in this room is a vile sad creature. But you might be able of helping us out."  
Rowena furrowed her brows, confused."With?"  
"A portal, do you think you could pull it off?" Sam said, curling closer to Ellis who sat idly behind him.  
"I may." She beamed with regained energy.  
"Then it's decided." Dean stood back up. "We're going to open the portal, and hopefully check off one thing of our list of shit we need to fix." 

The bar he'd chosen for their meeting was dark and grim, the type of place you go to get lost and escape any chance of public eye. Ketch sat on a stool in the corner, anxiously tapping on the wooden table waiting for him to show up.  
"Mr. Ketch." The man's voice behind him send chills running down his back, fearful of turning around he stayed focused on the drink in his hands. The man took a seat on the stool next by and he could see him smirk from the corner of his eye. "Business meeting. I've had a change of heart."  
He turned reluctantly to Ellis Macleod, ever as charming as he was intimidating. He had no other options but to agree. "May I ask, what's changed your mind...sir?"  
"No, you may not ask." There was an air of aggression to his voice that completely contradicted the ear to ear smile he wore like a mask. "You may still deliver the key to me. But the angel, drop the angel by the Winchester's, I no longer require him. And I believe the Winchester's may want him more than I do."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ik it's weird to insert Funeralia, or at least roughly the idea of funeralia on such an early stage but I somehow needed Rowena back. Okay that was all.  
> Also yeah someone is finally gonna rescue Castiel. Also the whole structure of this chapter was horrible and I know it it's lazy af but i'm so excited for next chapter that I just wanted to get this out first, i feel like i'm way too invested into my own fanfic lol but next chapter is A TRAINWRECK in the most positive way? I think. Once next chapter's plot twist is out if you read this please tell me if you saw it coming because i think i've been way too obvious about it… (spoiler it involves crowley and his baby mama lmao, i'm thinking of writing a chapter of how that even came to be.)


	14. A Sorrowful Life

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first bits of this chapter I spent a week writing and you can almost feel the fall off quality, oh geez. The rest I'm not particularly fond of, but being 2 weeks without uploading bothered me.

Las Vegas, Nevada. 1986

This is going to be the last time. They'd said that before, but truly, this would be the end of it. 

It was an act of rebellion; like a teenaged girl who sneaks out with her boyfriend who is probably 3 years older than her, strictly because her father doesn't like him, and getting laid and rebelling against authority at the same time was fun. They'd watched enough movies to know that's how it goes, and they felt incredibly immature for even finding a correlation between that trope and their own 'screw you, dad' moment. 

But they would stop. Maybe not today, but they would. 

It's a quarter past midnight, the streets are buzzling with hookers and the men who take them proudly from the arm like people don't know they paid 40 on cash for the privilege. It eased the somewhat guilt in the back of their mind, for in no way they could ever be as pathetic as these men. They decide to ignore the people bumping into their shoulders on a rush, eyes scanning for the name they'd been given for their meeting spot that night.  
Eventually they come face on with a neon light banner reading 'la escapada', two busty caricature girls dancing on each side of the neon letters like it was a pole, they smirked deviously. 

"Fancy." They said in a playfully annoyed tone, arms crossed over their chest. The distinctive figure in black was siting with his back turned, and yet they could hear him chuckle. "Sorry my love, would you want to dine in front of the bellagio fountain at Eiffel Tower next time?"  
"But it's no fun like that then, is it?" They sat on the stool next by, fishing the glass of ambar liquid right off his hand. "I thought that's what we're in for, cheap drinks, cheap motel, cheap everything. Make that champagne and The Palazzo Resort and you'll have a girl feeling special."  
"I might as well pay you 20 bucks then, if you wish to feel like a whore then I might just treat you like one." It annoyed them, but that was the game they played. Push each other's buttons, then screwing like they hate each other probably more than they actually do, it was not about love and tender caresses and yet it was easy to forget. They smirked their disgust away instead.  
"I think you got the wrong idea of who pays who." Their hands dug into his pocket until they came across the packet ciguarettes they knew were still there from last time. They placed the ciguarette between their lips, leaving a red smear on the white end. "Please."  
"Well, I guess we're both whores then." He dragged his thumb against the tip of the ciguarette, smoke slowly igniting it in a small churring flame. "Ask your fleet of idiots, I think they would definetely agree."  
"Yeah." They mumbled wih melancholy. "They'd agree." 

Lebanon, Kansas. 2018

Dean had gone through the portal, alone.  
Sam couldn't wrap his head around why. Was it Dean's usual self-sacrificial sense of duty? Or was, in the worst case, that Dean was still upset with him after all.  
He didn't want to think about. 

Sam sat around the portal, foot tapping a melody that played on his head while he tried to push all thoughts of Dean aside.  
He found himself unable to, so after a couple minutes of eyeing his phone contacts he decided he didn't need to try by himself. He picked his contact from the top of the 'favourite' listing, waited a few minutes for the call to come through. "Hey, how-" He sighed when he realised that what he thought was an answer was an inbox automated message.  
And now he had yet another thing that bothered him, which he probably wouldn't be able to brush off either.  
He would always answer, it didn't matter when Sam would call, he would always answer. So to be left without an answer for the first time troubled him a lot more than it probably should. 

A few more minutes of waiting around for Ellis to call back and Sam had to accept that maybe, for a reason or another, he wouldn't. 

That's when he decided to go through his reading pile, not lore, but the tame stuff he'd often find himself reading when they run out of cases to work on.  
Good Omens, Telltale Heart, To Kill A Mockingbird or even The Time Machine. He stroked the back of the book he placed back on the shelf, he didn't feel particuarly in the mood for anything in his personal library, maybe he was just doomed to sit around sick worried until Dean came back and left wondering if he even had a right to be mad at Ellis for not even bothering to call back— or text, for that matter. 

He was so deep in his own head that the thunderous knocking on the metal door almost made him fall off his seat.  
Sam stares blankly at the door, trying to register all worst case scenarios, if there was even a best case scenario at all, who could know how to get to the bunker and who would be dumb enough to knock.  
After a minute or so of considering whether he should, Sam grabs the handgun stuck to the back of the table and makes his wary way up the staircase to the door.

He expected a lot of things when he opened the door, but nothing he ever thought would happen could prepare him for what was really behind.  
"Hello Sam." Castiel said, looking about as annoyed as someone who has an angel blade pressed against his back could look. "If you're as kind as to let us in." Ketch added.  
And yet, probably the most questionable part of this scene was Gabriel, barely standing while leaning against Ketch for support. 

Las Vegas Nevada, 1986.

It would blow on their face, they'd been aware there would be concequences.  
And maybe this was the concequence, a final punishment and his sentence.

They didn't know if he knew, but after they'd found out the texts had stopped, the trace had gone cold and they wished they could be mad, but this was almost entirely on them.  
And then the pain, agonizing on the very core of their being, a pain that went beyond being physical, existed on every plane of existence and in none at all. It was only a warning sign of the hell that was to come.

Lebanon, Kansas. 2018.

Sam couldn't help but stare at Gabriel, pity and guilt boiling in the pit of his stomach, making him dizzy. But Gabriel never looked back, stayed curled into a ball against the wall.  
"Sam." Castiel stormed through the door, he was clearly on a rush for something, urgency evident on his voice and eyes. "Where's Ellis?"  
"I-" Sam sighed. "I don't know, why would you want to kn-" 

They were interrupted by a tremble under their feet, lights flickering. Gabriel jerked away. 

"Whatever it is can wait." Voice raised, Ketch leaned on the door frame, anxiety riddled on his face. "Half of hell is outside trying to break in, the seals won't last long if they keep pushing like that. We need to leave, now."  
"No." Castiel barked, standing with his chin up, brows furrowed. "We're not leaving without Dean, I don't even know why you're so eager to still be here in the first place."  
"Because-" Ketch looked like he was about to say something, his eyes puzzled over them before finally setting on the phone in his hand. "It's none of your business, halo."  
"Then leave." He watched the blade shimmering under Castiel's sleeve. "Or else-"  
"Cas." Sam whispered. "Cas, we're not leaving without Dean."  
"Sam, there's something you need to kn-" 

The floor trembled again. This time, the lights went off for good, pieces of debris from the ceiling falling in flakes under their heads. 

Herodian Kingdom, B.C. 

Castiel wished he could visit earth more often. 

He knew his brothers and sisters didn't share the sentiment, that they'd do everything to stray away from Earth and mankind as far as they could. Some of them would even share ideas such to Lucifer's, but they would only share their ideals among those who thought alike, Lucifer's mistake was honesty. 

But the sound, the smells, to feel the beating heart of their lives and their dreams under his feet. Castiel couldn't imagine anything more rewarding.  
And he wished he could visit under circumstances that didn't involve a weapon on his hand. 

Zachariah kicked the door of the home of stone and clay open, making a woman inside yelp. "Abathar." The woman kneeled, tears streaming down her face.  
"You've been accused of birthing a nephilim, as punishment you shall recieve the ultimate penalty for your disobedience to the lord's word." Castiel recited, out of memory.  
"I don't know what you're talking about." The woman cried. He believed her, but he knew better than to question Zachariah.  
"I think you do." Zachariah said, stabbing the woman through the chest. And when the unmistakeable shine didn't happen, all 6 of his brother's stayed still. Even Zachariah seemed shaken up, but he was quick to brush it off. "What the hell are you all sitting still and waiting for? Find the kid, end it."

They heard a soft horrorized gasp. In the corner stood a young girl, maybe 10 years old, wide eyed and cheeks wet with tears. 

"Well." Zachariah shrugged. "Go right ahead." He walked out the door, leaving Castiel and the other 6 to deal with the kid. 

Lebanon, Kansas. 2018.

The power generator had gone off, turning the atmosphere in the room a bright red. 

"They are in" Ketch said, alarmed by the sounds buzzling through the halls just on the other side of the door. "We're dead." He still held his phone in his hand, dialing a number Sam couldn't quite make out from afar over and over and seemingly never getting an answer.  
"Sam, where's Ellis?" Castiel asked yet once more, eyes fixed on his feet.  
"I don't know, I haven't seen him in over a week." Sam sighed. His attention drawn back to Gabriel who squirmed in terror to every sound and thud outside.  
"There's something really important that we need to discuss, Sam." 

Herodian Kingdom, B.C. 

They should've left yesterday. 

He still remembered, clear as day, to have seen Pahaliah stab the young girl, he still remembered her pained squeals and the blinding light escaping through her mouth and eyes. But she wasn't dead. Instead, they had still been following her tracks through the night until they found her near a river outside of Tiberias. 

Zachariah stabbed her once more, and this time, he sewed her head, arms and legs off the torso. And just to be safe, he put her on fire, the smell of churring flesh making everyone stay a few steps back from the improvised bonfire. And yet Zachariah insisted they should stay until the fire died down. To make sure the same mistake wasn't done twice. 

So they stayed from the evening through the night and sunrise, when the stars were disappearing and the bonfire was only then starting to die down. 

And much to their surprise, the girl was sitting in the middle, covered in ashes. Wide eyes looking in wonder. 

Kansas, Lebanon. 2018.

"I don't get it." Sam whispered.  
"Neither did I, then, bu-" Castiel was interrupted by another tremor, cracks forming on the ceiling. And a familiar voice calling from afar, making the 4's blood run cold. 

"Gabriel.." Asmodeous hummed. His steps and voice sounding closer with every second. "I can smell you, there's no use on hiding.."  
Gabriel trembled, pleading eyes looking at Sam in fear. Sam felt his heart sink.  
"What do we do?" Sam asked.  
"Wait here to get killed, of course." Ketch looked up from the phone screen, eyes haunted. "I say we give him the archangel, see how good of deal we can get."  
Gabriel quivered. 

The sound of Asmodeous' footsteps stopped, Sam felt his breath hitch on his throat. And for a minute he swore everyone was holding their breath, the room so quiet he could almost hear his heart beat. 

And the door was thrown open, wood cracking under an ivisble force.

"I'm here for my archangel and the crossbreed." Asmodeous smirked.  
"Jack..-" Sam stuttered. "He's not here."  
"My eye is on bigger fish at the moment, nephilim boy is so last year." 

Herodian Kingdom, B.C. 

The girl's first reflex was to run, rushing out of the ashes.  
"Abomination." Zachariah muttered, dragging the girl back with a flick of his wrist. She yelped, using her grace to fight his, eyes shooting red with blood from her efforts on running out of his grasp. 

That's when it happened.  
Dark veins became visible on her skin, eyes flaring red. She let out a hellish howl, convulsing against Zachariah's grip before she combusted in an explosion of white and black. She was dead. 

They stayed silent for a couple minutes, Zachariah eventually dropped the last of her clothes to the floor. "No one saw anything."  
"But.." One of the angels protested.  
"We killed her at her nest, we killed Abathar with her. Anybody else who says anything but that truth is thrown to a pit next to Lucifer to never see the light of dawn again, is that clear?" 

Kansas, Lebanon. 2018.

Sam leaned against the back, hand on his gun despite being aware it would prove useless. His mind was running wild, everything he'd seen and hear and tried to find any scenarios where the dots didn't connect the way they did.  
He looked at Castiel, who, somehow, managed to know what was going down his head and gave him a simple nod.  
"Now, Gabriel." Asmodeous extended his hand, chuckling. "Let's go home, pet. I'll collect your little bundle of joy later." 

Ellis materialized on the room, landing in the middle of Gabriel and Asmodeous. The shade of two wings the legnth of the room each folded again against his back, eyes flaring a crimson red. Sam couldn't brush off the feeling that he was seeing him for the first time.  
"Well, look who decided to show up after all." Asmodeous chuckled, dragging his voice in a patronizing manner.  
"I believe you have something of mine." Despite the roughness on his voice, his eyes settled briefly on Sam, giving him an apologetic look.  
"Do I, now?" He beamed. "What could it be?" 

Ellis grabbed his throat, and despite Asmodeous' resistance he could only stay still, gasping for air. Asmodeous coughed, gasping and inhaling air sharply. "What did y-" He was cut off by another cough, dark red gushing out of his mouth and nose.  
He fell onto his knees, the puddle of liquid growing underneath him. He mumbled incoherently, animalistic howls and yelps drowned by chocking and attempts to stand up that were in the least unsucessful.  
Eyes wide, skin shrinking against bones. Another infernal screech out of the last of his lungs and there was nothing else but a puddle of liquids, goo and bones. In the middle of the puddle, the golden key with a skull in the handle remained.  
And with him, multiple figures patroling the hall desintegrated. 

He kneeled next to the puddle. "That." 

"He was not part of the deal." Ellis slammed Ketch against the wall, cracking the back of the other's skull. Ketch whimpered, barely breathing in the tight grip. 

"Ellis.." Sam whispered. Standing beside Gabriel and Castiel in the corner. "Stop."  
His grip on Ketch's throat sceased, allowing him to squirm away. But he didn't turn, stayed fixated on the wall because, in a way, it was easier.  
"Why didn't you say anything.." Sam said, taking a few steps closer through the puddle of blood.  
He looked at Sam from the corner of his eye, gulping. He stayed quiet. 

Sam heard the sound of wings fluttering, finding that Gabriel was nowhere to be found, and when he turned back to Ellis he was gone as well.

 

Las Vegas, Nevada. 1987.

The bundle on his arms quivered, black veins running over it's pale blue colored skin, the soft glow coming from underneath it's skin drowned by a pulsating dark lump that ran across his chest and arms. Eyes red, blood staining it's pale cheeks. 

It was dying, and Gabriel wouldn't stay to watch it die. 

He tucked the bleeding lump into a small shoe box he'd found lying around in his vessel's room, placed the box under the bed where he hoped the howling and yelping would not be heard. And just when he was sure, he left. 

Kansas, Lebanon. 2018.

He'd made it back, Sam had insisted on not explaining how Castiel was even back to begin with, completely uninterested on holding any type of conversation with him.  
So Dean waited until nightfall to go where he knew he was sure to find Cas.  
He felt relieved when he saw Castiel sitting in a corner at the library, just a lamp on and a book at his hand.

"Cas.." His heart raced, mouth suddenly dry.  
"Dean." He looked up through battled eyes. "I thought you'd be asleep by now."  
"Yes but.." It wasn't in it's totality a lie. "Sam said I should ask you what happened."  
Castiel sighed. "Arthur Ketch, he freed us."  
"/us/?"  
"Gabriel and I, I did think he was dead as well. He'd been Asmodeous' prisioner for..a while."  
"Asmodeous was here?"  
He nodded.  
"It's not everything."  
"No, it isn't." Castiel said. "Gabriel confessed to fathering a-, I don't know, I don't think there's a name for that."  
Dean frowned. "Come again?"  
"The guy you looked for at the party, he's Gabriel's son."  
Dean was sure the answer would clarify any doubts but if anything, made every other question a hundred more confussing. "I thought he was Crowley's-"  
"He is."  
Dean frowned again. "Oh fuck. That can happen? I mean, how even did-"  
Castiel shrugged. "It shouldn't happen, he will die. Nature fixes it's mistakes, i'm not sure how he even survived that long."  
"Dammit." Dean slumped next to Castiel, sighing. "Sammy, dammit. I'm too sober for this mess." 

They stayed like that for a moment, leaning closer to each other than Dean would've allowed any other time. "I mean, how do you feel? He's your nephew. man, and I thought the Jack thing was problematic."  
"I've been worse." Despite himself, Dean smiled. 

He wanted to say something else, wanted to do anything apart from just looking at him from the corner of his eye.  
But maybe right now wasn't the moment, and being close to him again was enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I??? I??? i don't know how to explain that in my head, this makes sense. I blame everything on those Tumblr "what this ship's baby would look like", if you ship this rarepair then you're welcome! if you don't, I hope you slowly grow used to it because I wasn't convinced either when I began writing this plot idea, but somehow the concept wasn't as weird as it was before and now I guess I kind of ship it??? I mean, I'm writing their lovechild, goddamit I guess that technically makes me a shipper.
> 
> AND NO, IT'S NOT MPREG. I know it's hard to not imagine Dick Speight Jr in the flashbacks to...ya know….when it happens, but in my mind Gabriel was in a female vessel when it happened. And also, i'm not even sure on how the whole demon on angel baby would even work, i'm pretty sure it's not a thing in canon but SCREW canon. No but like, I still don't know why I decided this was a good idea, if it helps at first I wanted Ellis to be secretly Azazel but that would be hella creepy and no??? and then I thought I would maybe make him Ruby in disguise but Sam deserves A HEALTHY ASS RELATIONSHIP so no. And I had already written Ellis in so I was like, I guess??? As I said, blame Tumblr not me. Also the bible describes Gabriel as sorta androgynous so, and nb Gabriel is my favourite headcanon when it comes to bible stuff. 
> 
> ALSO, the urge to not make dean and cas kiss was big, but im a sucker for slowburn, sorry.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been almost 2 months since the last time I updated this fic. I haven't forgotten about it, btw. But since Supernatural took a long ass break as well, I figured I might as well take one too. I was going to post this in time with season 14's premiere but I figured I'd post it right now because despite it being super short it just felt really right to finish it where I did lmao, the rest is coming in the 11th or sooner, depends on how school treats me.

He stroked the side of the golden artifact with the pad of his finger, indulging into the small crevices of the eyesockets in the skull at the handle.   
Mesmerized, seconds became minutes of listening to Sam and Castiel talking on and forward— like white sound in the background, words inaudible to Dean. For at that moment, the key was the centre of the universe, or his, to be exact.   
"Dean..-" The words came crashing through him as a comeback to reality. He blinked two times, taking a step back while the key slipped through his fingers to fall back into the puddle of guts and blood smeared on the floor. "Are you alright?"  
"Something about the key.." Only then, he realized he was breathing heavily. "I don't like it." 

"It wasn't made for you to touch." His brain was only starting to register his surroundings when he became aware of the British man standing beside Sam. "It was crafted for Lucifer's hands and his hands only. Anything lesser to Lucifer? Driven to madness, and a human being to death. Had you held that forsaken thing for longer than 20 minutes, you'd be dead."   
Dismisive of the information given, Dean huffed. "What the hell are you still doing here?"   
"James Dean if he was in Rosemary's Baby still owns my soul, you can imagine that I'm quite eager to undo our contract." And he looked like it. Ketch's usual professionalism and air of prestige had been replaced for the look of a hasty, restlessly haunted man. Completely lost to any drive but getting out. "I got him the key. He dropped it? Not my problem."   
Dean chuckled. "And you think he's just going to give you your soul back?"  
"He's a business man before he's the king of hell's child, I worked close enough to him to know the last thing he wants is a contract going bad." 

"Well.." This was the first time he heard Sam talk. It looked like, despite everything that seemed to be going on his head, he was trying to stay grounded on their current situation. "We have the key, we can get mom back, right?" 

"The key runs on archangel grace, unless you just happen to have Michael on your closet I highly doubt so." Ketch said.  
"So we need to find Ellis." Castiel says, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Or Gabriel."   
"Or..-"   
The three of them had a sudden strike of realization, followed by guilt that could make him shiver.   
"Or Jack." 

Sam sighed, glare darting to the floor awkwardly. "Last time Jody ever notified on him he was in Colorado."   
"And that was?" Castiel asked.   
"A month ago."   
After a solid minute of awkward, guilty and tense silence, Dean pulled the keys out of his pocket. "A cold trace is better than no trace, we're making a 7 hour drive to Denver." 

Greystone Park Psychiatric Hospital, New Yersey. 

He pased anxiously through the waiting room, foot tapping on the carpeted floor.   
"Mr..Gabriel Baker?" The woman in white attire holding a clipboard peaked her head from the other side of the door.   
"Yes?"   
"Your sister is ready to see you." She gave him a sympathetic, sweet smile. Which on it's own didn't help the guilt piling within him. He nodded and followed the nurse in regardless. 

She took him to a hall full of tables with people talking, patients huging family and friends, and in the middle of the room was a familiar woman sitting at a table with an empty seat for him. The nurse smiled at him again, squeezing his shoulder to provide some sort of encouragement before she finally left.   
He looked at her for a minute deciding on what he should or say, or if he shouldn't say anything at all and this had been just another one of his bad ideas and he should leave. Her eyes looked into the distance, lost and he started to wonder if she even noticed he was there. 

"Miranda." He finally said, regretting the words coming out of his mouth the moment he said it.   
She looked around, confused until she finally looked at him, crocked her neck to the side almost like a puppy. "Me?"   
"Yes." He bit his lip. "I, I just wanted to see how you're doing."   
Miranda frowned, and he could swear there was almost a split second of recognition in her eyes. "The nurses say i'm doing better."  
"And do you feel better?"   
"No." She looked down to her feet. "I'm lying, I don't even take the pills anymore."   
Gabriel frowned. "Why?"  
"Because I know i'm not sick." Her eyes water, she looks suddenly dismissive of his presence, like she's somewhere else. "I know I was...I remember" She places a hand against her stomach, the tears dwelling on her eyes sliding across her cheeks. "Sometimes I dream of /him/. I dream of the life we didn't get to have; I dream that I hold him against my chest, I dream that I dress him up for his first day in Kindergartden." She chuckles, drying the tears with the back of her hand. "I dream of crying at his wedding, the life we should of had but was taken away from us." 

Gabriel sighed. He wanted to hug her, despite continuing to repeat for himself that this was merely a visit for closure, he wanted to hug her. But before anything he wanted to ask for forgiveness, and yet she wouldn't know what for, she wouldn't.   
But he had condemned her to live her life locked up, being told to the face that what she knew was a fact was delusion. No apology in the world could make up for the damange he'd inflicted on her. 

"I know you're not sick, Miranda." She looked up to him, with crystal eyes full of hope. "I'm sorry...- that you have to go through this."   
"Do you know who took my baby?" She bit her lip, even more tears running down her face, her lower lip quivering.   
"No." He lied. "But I will find him." He didn't know what else to do, so he took her hand in his like he'd seen other visitors do to the patients, for reasurance. Gabriel felt his inside crushed when she squeezed his hand back. "And I will bring him home, that's a promise." 

Kansas, route 66. 

The grass at the side of the road was greener than it should be mid October, a field of oxyedaisies blended in the background with the clouds tainted orange by the sun setting, the impala was the only car in the road at that time of the day which meant that Dean would blast Bad Moon Rising and butcher the song on the top of his lungs. That's how their roadtrips would usually go down, but something was different this time and it was hard to ignore. "Hey, Sammy." 

Sam rolled on his side to face Dean who, despite keeping most of his attention on the road, looked at him the corner of his eye with a usual look of sympathy that, if Sam was honest, he despised "What is it?"  
But he understood the reasoning behind it, that despite how old—how mature he thought he was, Dean would always look at him that way. Like he needed saving, like Sam was just a scared child who Dean tried desperately to spare from everything.   
"I know you're not feeling it right now and- I get it, trust me, I get it, but-" It was as sweet as it was irritating. And somehow, he appreciated it nonenthless.

Though, he didn't want to have this conversation. Not right now and certainly not with Castiel in the back who, used to sitting through their arguments, simply spaced out looking through the back window.   
"Dean..-" Sam sighed. "I-" 

"I mean, so what if your boyfriend is" Dean shrugged. "- a nephilim on steroids? It could be a lot worse."   
Sam clenched his jaw. There was a lot to unpack in that sentence alone and he could tell by Dean's troubled expression that he regretted the wording as much as Sam did. He couldn't begin to understand much of what happened the night before and, to put it as blunt as that felt horribly mistaken, and then there was the word 'boyfriend' which on it's own was a lot...  
"He wasn't-" He sighed, again. Sam felt suddenly twelve and he couldn't help but chuckle at the ridiculousness behind the situation. "Not officially, it's-" He bit his bottom lip. "I don't know, it doesn't matter anymore."   
"No, I get it, don't worry.-" Dean said. "But what i'm trying to get to is, there's a lot of worse things. Sure, it's complicated, but I wouldn't necessarily call it a bad thing." 

He watched Castiel twitch in the back. He looked like he was about to say something, but retracted back to staring out the window. 

"I-" Dean continued. "I judged him too fast, I don't even know what I was thinking. I mean, I was convinced for a split second that he was Lucifer in disguise or some shit like that." Sam frowned. "Alright, that was too far on my behalf and- I'm very glad he isn't, by the way."   
"You're right." Sam smiled weakly. "It could be a lot worse."  
"I mean, he wiped half of hell clean for us, turned Asmodeous into custard on the way out." Dean chuckled. "I think that pretty much makes him cool in my book." 

"I don't mean to interrumpt." Castiel said. "But I think you two should sleep."   
"I saw a billboard about a motel a few kilometers away." Dean said. "We'll be on our way in the morning, you should see if Jody can catch up with us then." 

\-------------------------------------

Dean flopped hard against the mattress. He inhaled heavily the smell of detergent and cheap perfume on the pillow, sighing. 

He had a lot, maybe too much in his mind and now that he was alone, he was unsure of where to begin.   
First of, and something that he felt like he was pretty much procastinating to think about: Cas. He was so incredibly turn on what having Castiel back did to him.   
On one hand, he felt like he could finally breathe knowing he was safe. He didn't go to sleep wondering where Cas was, if Cas was even alive, he didn't go to sleep with an unanswered prayer. But feeling was easier, he lived with less restraints on himself and he was starting to figure out that one day, he'd have to stop.

Whatever not restraining would wind up to be for his friendship with Cas, that he didn't know. And the thought of the future terrified him.   
And yet, he knew that living every day trying to not stand too close, thinking twice every single word and every single step would, eventually, drive him insane. And he would not be able of co-existing with Cas around like this anymore and he didn't know what terrified him more. 

Living without Castiel was one thing, but living without him because Castiel decided to step away from him? He could not live with that.   
But how long can you go pretending. How many more hookups with hyper sexual blondes would be enough for it to go away, how much more can he keep on the lie- not only to Castiel, but himself.   
Dean almost fell off the edge of the bed when he heard Castiel calling from the other side of the door. 

He opened the door, planting on a half crooked smirk through a mostly troubled expression, scared that even thinking too loud would give away what was going through his head. He remembered that the last time he felt like this Sam caught him jerking off and thinking of that only painted an even more awkward smile on his face. 

"We need to talk, I was hoping that I would catch you awake once Sam was asleep."   
Dean grimanced. "Sure, what is it?"   
"We need to find Ellis." Dean couldn't help but let out a sigh of relief, which thankfully, Cas didn't seem to notice. "Not just for the key, it's-"

Castiel sat at the edge of the bed, pinching the bridge of his nose thoughtfully. "If he works anywhere near what the first ocurrance of something like him worked, it's only a question of time before-"   
"Before.. what?" Dean sighed. He felt, suddenly silly. An uncomfortable void in his stomach anticipating what he expected to be bad news.   
"Demon blood and archangel grace." Castiel said, looking up to Dean with a haunted expression. "He's his own natural enemy. The human soul in the middle is trapped within the two, I don't think there's a way to stop it. The use of his abilities will only make it worse, and after killing Asmodeous and the demons who accompanied him I'm surprised he's not dead yet. But he will be, sooner than we might think." 

No, he didn't feel silly, he felt selfish. "He's a time bomb." Dean bit the inside of his cheek, hissing when he drew blood. 

"When he dies, heaven will find out. Last time, Zachariah covered up, blamed it on a prince of hell. The damage inflicted on the town was huge, a complete catastrophe that otherwise would be hard to ignore. Imagine something like that in the middle of one of the most important cities of the United States."   
"But all princes are dead." Dean said.   
"And the word will spread." Castiel grimances. "When they find out, they will execute everyone who knows. No exceptions. So; Me, you, Sam, Gabriel, Ketch-"   
"And how do you suggest we stop it?" Dean sighed.  
"We don't." Castiel said. "We take...measurements, to make it a lot quieter, and on our terms." 

Dean frowned. He looked at Castiel who did everything he could to avoid Dean's eyes, guilty. "You want us to kill him first. How do we even begin to do something like that?"  
"Michael's lance." He said. "It's the only weapon I know of that could-"  
"No." Dean said. "I mean- What are we supposed to tell Sam? Are supposed to just, get him to go grocery shopping or whatever and while he's gone we kill his boyfriend and pretend we just didn't see what happened? Or you seriously think he'd agree to something like that."   
"I don't know!" Castiel barks, exhalted. His expression relaxes after a minute, eyes softening to Dean like a lost child. "I don't know. I hoped you would talk to him."

They stayed quiet for a solid minute, looking downwards thoughtfully.   
"Let's say that I somehow convince Sam there's no other way." He didn't feel any better about it regardless. "The lance is broken, how do we even repair it in time to act on this quickly?"   
"It can be fixed by another archangel." Castiel said. "I was hoping we can talk Gabriel to-" 

Another knock on the door echoes through their conversation. They share a conflicted glare until Dean decides to stand up and open the door. 

Gabriel falls onto the wooden floor, holding himself up with his left arm while a pool of blood from a wound in his abdomen start to gather around him. "Hello." He smirks, almost as nonchalant that it would be hard to even notice the wound was there not a significant lack of color in his skin. "You wouldn't happen to have my son just chilling around with you, would you?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't help but think of M preg when I write this which makes me regret even making that story arc at all (nothing against m preg! it's just not my cup of tea.) and in a way, I kind of felt like it didn't make sense but the show on it's own contradicts it's own lore a lot so, if you're reading this, i'll explain mine :) 
> 
>  
> 
> I see souls, grace, whatever demons have and etc like a plane- sort of like making a powerpuff girl lmao. To me, grace and souls work the same way and the show pretty much agrees that there can exist a soul within angelic grace (like nephilims, perse.) AND because of earlier seasons and Sam's addiction we know that mixing demon blood (in this case i'll say it works with either the consuption of it or be it passed at birth) creates a "human" with a human soul who happens to have sick obscure abilities much like Sam in season 4 or other of Azazel's children. SO IN MY UNDERSTANDING human soul plus archangel grace PLUS demon blood make, well, Ellis. So if you were to extract his grace he'd be a regular ol antichrist, and if you used the blood exchange thing from the man of letters then he would technically become human. Biologically, he's son of Crowley's vessel and who I imagined would be Gabriel's old female vessel (Miranda, who I really want to go into detail later but idk), while still having Gabriel's grace. 
> 
>  
> 
> STILL NOT SURE HOW, but this makes sense in my head.


End file.
